Finding the Way Home
by Sandy S
Summary: PostChosen...CHAPTER 19! Buffy and Spike continue sorting out their issues before summoning Willow to help restore Angel's soul.
1. Prologue

Title: Finding the Way Home

Author: Sandy S.

Email: ssoennin@juno.com

URL: 

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and UPN.  I own nothing.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Through "Chosen" of BtVS and the end of Angel Season 4.

Summary: Buffy doesn't feel quite right after the gang goes to L.A. for rest and relaxation.  What will she do about it?

A/N: 1) The song excerpt is from "When Love Takes You In" by Steven Curtis Chapman.

2) To see the beautiful fanart made by dear Thia to accompany this story go to 

* * *

Finding the Way Home

"I know you've heard the stories, 

_But they all sound too good to be true._

_You've heard about a place called home,_

_But there doesn't seem to be one for you,_

_So one more night you cry yourself to sleep_

_And drift off to a distant dream. . ._

_Where love takes you in_

_And everything changes,_

_A miracle starts with a beat of a heart._

_When loves takes you home_

_And says you belong here,_

_The loneliness ends and a new life begins_

_When love takes you in. . ."_

_From "When Love Takes You In" by Steven Curtis Chapman._

* * *

            After she and her friends reached Los Angeles and celebrated with Angel and his group, she found that she didn't feel quite right.  

            She wasn't sure when she realized that she felt that way.

            Maybe it was when Angel embraced her with joy upon her arrival and gave her a personal tour of Wolfram and Hart.

Or it could have been when Giles stood up, insistent that as one of two remaining Watchers if they counted Wesley, he needed to recount the story of what happened.

            Maybe it was when, after a day of their scheduled, enthusiastic shopping spree, Xander burst into tears over his triple chocolate mocha and wept like a baby over the loss of his beloved Anya.

Perhaps it was when Willow came to her for a quiet chat about the events of the battle... what happened when she went beyond the darkness and revealed the joy and ecstasy of her consequent release from the murky swamp of insecurity.  

And maybe the feeling came when she was standing in the bathroom, brushing her curling, wet hair with the cheap plastic brush she bought in the hotel gift shop.  Through the fog of shower steam, she had had one of those elusive moments of self-awareness.  Despite her revelations about who she was, where she was on the journey, and her plans for the future, she found that she still couldn't bring herself to tell her friends exactly what happened to the one who sacrificed himself for them all.  She had set aside the brush and smiled at the irony that even now, she remained who she was.

No matter when the feeling came to life, she was certain of a discomfort in the depths of her being, and when she woke in the middle of the night in the hotel room she was sharing with Dawn, Giles, and Xander, she went to the balcony, stared up into the moonless sky, and just *knew*.  

With fresh surety, she sat at the cramped desk and scribbled out a brief note on the pad of hotel stationery that said she was going somewhere, that she needed to do something, and that she would be back in a few days at the most.  She wanted to reassure them that she wasn't running away from them.  

She also took Giles's credit card and left an "I.O.U." in his wallet.

* * *

            The rental car only drove so far to the edge of what once was Sunnydale.  She persisted though and was able to go a little further by driving off the highway before she grew wary of reaching the edge and falling over.  Jerking on the parking brake, she exited the vehicle with the urgency of one who had somewhere to go. . . someplace to be.  

Despite her show of confidence, the hollow in the pit of her stomach told her that she really didn't have anywhere to *be*.    

            The sky was still dark and cloudless, and only the stars lit her path.  As she picked her way across the rubble mosaic that formed the border of the giant crater that she would inevitably face, she wondered about what lay in the pit beyond. 

She wasn't sure if she was ready to face the scraps of people's lives that were utterly destroyed in an instant. . .ripped to ribbons.

She didn't know if she wanted to attempt comprehension of the thousands of memories scattered like broken souls in the wind.  

            Eventually, the city would be long forgotten. . . valued only as a would-be phenomenon to stop, stare, and marvel at.  People would ask their loved ones, "What could have happened here to form such a huge hole in the Earth's surface?"  

            But she. . . she would never forget what happened. . . even if she had to tape the shreds together.

            The memory still thrummed with vibrant intensity, creating a long, deep wound in her mind that would turn to scar tissue but never completely disappear.  She'd borne such injuries in the past. . . injuries that damaged her very essence.  However, this time, she didn't want the memory to wound her soul.

            Beyond a shadow of doubt, she knew he wouldn't want that to happen.

            She walked. . . pushing aside the random but familiar surprise of her muscles contracting and releasing that comes with surviving something so dramatic.

            A wind blew.  

            Tugging her jacket around her mid-section, she peered through the invisible push and found the edge of the pit.  

            The drop-off was steep. . . more abrupt than anything she could ever climb down without ropes and anchors. . . even if she was a Slayer.

            "Where's Riley when you need him?" she grumbled to herself, thinking that perhaps her ex-boyfriend would have some sort of tools or even technology to get her places.  

But then, Riley would never be out here. . . not based on a feeling of unease.  He would have needed a goal to pursue, and he would have had to assemble a team. . . or at the very least, brought his wife, which was *so* not something she needed to deal with right now.

She kept traveling.  

Every perfect shape had a flaw if a person looked hard enough, and she wasn't taken aback when she found a tiny, less sheer path she could descend without falling several hundred feet.  

Trusting her instincts, she avoided the pitfalls of loose dirt, sharp glass and metal that dotted the sediments.  She almost lost her balance once when she stumbled over a chunk of broken roofing that she didn't see, but she caught herself by bracing against the wall of the crater beside her.  A cascade of dirt and other bits and pieces flew past her, coating her in a light cloak of dust. . . Sunnydale's flesh.

She kept traveling.

A few wispy clouds formed in the sky above, partially covering her only light source.  When stray raindrops began to fall, officially staining her light-colored clothing, she paused.

Eyes wide at the sky above, she shivered.  

What was she doing here when she could be safely tucked away in a warm bed next to Dawn?

Rain droplets expanded in size as she watched, drenching her in individual water balloons.  As a strong gust of wind and water washed over her, her eyes widened further.

Something whispered on the edge of her mind. . . in a voice that she would have recognized no matter how garbled by outside forces.

Was it. . .?  

It was a memory. . . nothing more. . .

She bit her lip and remembered what he'd said to her the last night.  She'd curled up against him and felt his arm strong around her waist.  His voice had been soft as a song in her ear before she drifted to dreams, "I believe that we'll be all right."

And she had believed.

The precipitation let up, and frowning slightly, she shook off the hopeful chill that had momentarily filled her soul.

Even though she doubted her senses, she felt the urge to keep going. . . to continue her climb downward.  

She took fifteen steps more and lost her equilibrium again.

And this time, she didn't regain it.

As if on cue, the rain gushed in buckets.

Heart leaping in her throat, she seamlessly pulled herself into a roll to reduce any injuries she might incur.  Simultaneously, she reached out for anything to stop her motion.  She felt lost in the force of gravity, in the pounding rain, without the chance to analyze what was happening. . . like she'd been lost in the chaos of the final battle, in which she'd only relied on her instincts. 

 When she was starting to believe that the falling would never end and that she would certainly drown, her body contacted something hard. . . large. . . and warm. . . something very real and very alive.

Rain cascading over her, she remained unmoving until the dizziness that enshrouded her began to evaporate.  

As the lightheadedness dissipated, she began to match the rain with her own inner storm.  Sobs wracked her small frame so hard that she almost couldn't take in further oxygen.  All she felt was a primitive emotion she could only tentatively name loss.  Her mind could not wrap itself around the feeling enough to overcome or make full sense of it, and she rode the waves as she had never done until she was gasping for breath and her ribs ached so much she thought they might burst.  

Hiccups took over briefly.

Then, she quieted.

She focused on her heart beating and her chest rising and falling.

Her mind returned to itself and drew attention to the body before her.

The first coherent thought she had was that someone had not evacuated Sunnydale and that he or she had somehow survived and ended up on this. . . apparent ledge.  Was this what she was to return for. . . to search for survivors?

Harnessing her inner strength, she raised herself slightly and opened her eyes, blinking away the steady raindrops.  

She ignored the mud that caked her clothes, hair, and body, and she disregarded the loss of one of her shoes.

Between the darkness and the water, the body before her was indistinguishable to her vision.  So, she reached forth with shaking hands and blindly *felt*.  

The body's muscles were compact and firm.

*Male.*

With the discovery that she'd found a member of the opposite sex, her thoughts tripped unwittingly over a montage of memories of *him*.  Nothing was specific. . . remembrance of his touch, the way he smelled, the way he sometimes talked. . . or cried out. . . in his sleep.  

Further exploration led her to discover that the male was completely naked. . . except for something around his neck.  She fingered the heavy chain, and her fingers fumbled rapidly over each link until she found what lay heavily at the end.

Her heart nearly stopped in her chest, and a small cry escaped her lips.

At that moment, she noticed that the rain had ceased, and she brushed the remaining precipitation and mud from her eyes.  In the low starlight that persisted in peeking through the clouds, she was greeted by something she wasn't sure was real.  

Impulsively, she rolled the man onto his back, knelt beside him, and ran adroit fingertips over his forehead and cheeks, astonished at the heat radiating from his skin into her hands.  She found his chest and pressed her hands lightly down, so they could rise and fall each time he inhaled deeply.  Behind the movement of his lungs and ribcage, a faint beat thrust itself forth, telling her that he was alive. . . very much alive!

Tears rose anew in her eyes, but they were happy tears.  She had to make sure her senses were telling her the truth.

Impulsively she closed her eyes and brought her face parallel to his, hovering over his mouth and nose.  For the first time, they shared air heated by both their bodies.  She was enthralled by the simplicity and significance of this.

Slowly, she lowered her head until her lips were on his.  Her skin tingled with his presence.  

But she didn't kiss him.

She merely mouthed the words he'd said to her when they woke up for the last time together, "Looks like we made it another day."

His body jerked beneath her, and their eyes flew open concurrently as he woke.

His initial expression was one of confusion and disbelief.  He opened his mouth once to speak, but no sound emitted.  She just watched him.  Then, sadness rooted itself in his eyes.  

His hand reached up and cupped her face.  His next words were barely audible, but she heard them anyway, and she perceived the defeat.  "You didn't make it out in time."

She couldn't find a response, so she just shook her head with glittering eyes and a smile that said she was holding back.

"You did?"  He was uncertain.

Mutely, she nodded.

"Then. . . you didn't make it afterwards," he stated without emotional intonation.  "And you ended up here with me in this. . ."  He paused to glance around at the desolate surroundings. . . or what he could see of them.  ". . . hell."

She shook her head again.  

"And somehow, they took out your tongue when they put us in this godforsaken place," he added with a trace of his old spunk.  "Well, hey. . . at least we have each other. . . . Or in your case, maybe that's not so good."  

When she didn't respond but continued to stare, he asked, "What happened?  Do you know?  I mean. . . I think I remember some of the end but. . . ."

She'd been a little afraid to speak aloud in case she might wake from a dream, but now she summoned the courage.  "You don't know what you are?"

"What I am?"  He was attempting to process too many things at once, and nothing was very clear.

Taking his hand in hers, she placed his palm flat over his heart.  His face registered the heartbeat and breathing immediately, and he sat up abruptly, forcing her backwards.  She held onto his knees to keep from falling.  

Now, it was his turn to be speechless, and he stared down at himself as if expecting somehow that he would have a completely different appearance.

Her smile broadened into a grin.  "Yep.  You're *alive*."  Her eyes widened.  "And you're *naked*."  She scrambled to peel off her saturated jacket.

Wrapping the tiny coat around his waist, he wondered aloud, "I'm *alive*?  But why?"

She threw her arms around his middle, embracing him tightly, and his arms held her with equal strength.  "I honestly don't know, but I'm sure Giles will figure it out. . . o-or one of everyone else who does prophesy research."

"Then, . . ."  His fingers ran through her wet, dirty hair, and she felt like she was the most beautiful woman in the world.  

"All the core Scoobie group made it. . . all but Anya."  She swallowed back tears of regret.

His tone matched hers.  "Anya?" 

"She died saving Andrew."

He said nothing.  Then, "And Faith?  And Wood?"

She smiled.  "All fine.  Alive and kicking in L.A.  They should make a T-shirt with that on it."

He chuckled, and she relished the sound rumbling against her ear.  "Or 'I survived apocalypse number fifty-two.'"  His good humor faded.  "And Dawn?"  He was ashamed that he hadn't asked about her first.

"She's fine!  She bought a new wardrobe this weekend. . . or at least, the beginning of one."

"Because you lost everything."  He laid his cheek on the crown of her head.

"Yeah."    

He took her by the shoulders and held her back.  "So, we're not in a hell dimension?  We're not dead?" he asked as if the truth was slow to register.  

"Nope."  She pointed over the edge into the giant crater that still extended several hundred feet below them.  "*That* is Sunnydale.  The hellmouth: officially *closed* for business."

"Wow."  He panned the pit.  "I did all of this?"

She picked up the medallion that was resting on his moving chest.  "Yeah.  You and this thing."

Their foreheads were almost touching.

He smiled almost shyly.  "I'm a champion?"

"Yes."  She studied his face as he gazed at the jewel in her hand.  He didn't seem to believe what he had done, so she repeated her confirmation,  "Yes, you are."

The sky was becoming a faint navy blue.  Dawn was approaching.  Clouds were struggling to re-configure themselves into a more organized formation before the sun's arrival.

She unexpectedly felt extremely uncomfortable in the dirt and realized that she didn't want to get caught in the mud again.  Disentangling herself from him, she stood self-consciously, aware that she didn't exactly look her best.  In the past, his face would have been a mirror of hurt at her departure from his arms, but now, his eyes were merely filled with a uncertainty.

"We should get out of here before it starts raining too hard again.  It could make the ascent even more slippery."  She glanced at his half-naked form.  "And we aren't exactly dressed for hiking."

He surveyed the path from which she had come and nodded.  "I agree."  

She helped him up, and they began climbing with an amicable silence between them.  

Sprinkles of liquid were starting to hit them when he asked from behind her, "How did you know where to find me?"

She didn't look back.  "I don't know."

Not letting the topic go, he asked, "I mean, you went to L.A., right?"

"Right."

"And. . . you came back," he continued.

She sighed because she wasn't really sure of what to tell him.  "I just had a *feeling*."

"A feeling?"

She reminded herself that just because he was alive didn't mean that he wasn't the same annoyingly persistent person.  She elected to like that about him. . . for the moment.  She reached back for his hand and squeezed gently when he laced his fingers with hers.  She cast him a fleeting glance and said,  "I didn't feel right inside.  And something told me to come back here."  

"Oh."

The rain began to come harder as they climbed.  Dry mud and grime slipped off of them as if they were shedding a second skin.  With each step, she felt a little cleaner.

At last, they reached the top, and when they did, the precipitation lightened to a drizzle.  

"Where'd you park?  You did drive, right?" he asked a bit breathlessly from the exertion of climbing.  He touched the area above his heart.  "And. . . and my heart is pounding."

She smiled at his wonder.  

"I forgot what that felt like."  Then, his eyes caught the image of the giant crater behind him.  "Whoa," he breathed as if he hadn't just seen it down below

She rubbed his arm with her free hand.  "Yeah.  Pretty big, huh?"

Astonished at the vastness of the view, he said the first thing that came to his mind, "Goodbye, Sunnydale."  Part of him was filled with sorrow at the loss of the tiny city that had been his home for so long, and the other half of him was oddly relieved to be moving on.

"Understatement of the year," she remarked wryly.

She broke his thrall when she tugged on his arm.  "Come on."

Following her lead, he kept his eyes on the gigantic hole in the ground.  "Where'd you park?"

She squinted but couldn't see the rental car despite the continually lightening sky.  She hadn't thought she'd walked such a long distance.  "Far, far away."

He didn't have a response to that, and they journeyed with a comfortable quiet between them.  

Approximately twenty feet from the vehicle, the sun chose to peek above the horizon.

Being used to seeing the sun start its daily march across the sky, she remained unmoved, but he dropped her hand and knelt to the ground.

Alarmed, she turned to face him and was relieved to read the wonder painted across his face.  

She went down beside him with aching legs, trying to put herself in his shoes.

"I never thought I'd see this," he whispered, gaze unwavering.

The rays deliberately grew and expanded like golden streamers, granting red-blooded life to the edges of the remaining clouds and warming their skin.

He sat back on the dirt, knees jutting up to hold his wrists.  Distracted by his change of position, she smiled at him.  Slipping her arm through his, she rested her head on his shoulder.  

"Well, Spike, it looks like we made it another day," she said in a low voice, repeating her earlier words.  Her expression was full of peace and contentment.

Smiling, he scooted her closer to him so that she was flush against him as they continued to watch the sunrise.  "And, Buffy," he said her name purposefully, "I think we'll be all right."

Without a doubt, she knew that she felt right again and that they would find the way home. . . together.

* * *

The end.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: I decided to take the other series I recently started called "Mystery at Vampire Villa" set in season four and place the storyline three years after season 7 and "Finding the Way Home."  I made "Finding the Way Home" the prologue and this is chapter one!  Notably, the prologue can stand on its own as a complete story in and of itself! 

I hope you enjoy this!  Sandy :o)

Chapter 1 

            Three years had passed.  

            Three bloody years had passed without a word from Buffy outside of the occasional postcard, Christmas card, or phone call about Dawn's life landmarks.  

            Why hadn't she been in touch?

            Soon after Spike and Buffy returned to L.A. from Sunnydale, she'd fed him some line about baking cookies, and he'd given her his trademark eyebrow lift, which shut her up real fast.  She knew that he saw through her and that there was more to her running away than half-cooked dough. . . something more than a simple analogy could explain.  

            Hell, he was scared, too.  He'd even told her as much. 

            She left him even though she knew he was struggling. . . that he was trying to adjust to being human again.  

            Where had she gone?  

            Buffy had followed Giles around the world, gathering up the new Slayers-in-Training/Slayers and setting up a training facilities and programs for them.  She'd settled in one spot after about a year and was trying to provide a stable home life for Dawn.  

            Spike understood all that. . . but why did she have to stay so separated from him?

            And just when Spike was learning to live without her presence, learning to be around Angel and his crew without tangible tension in the air whenever they inhabited the same room, she returned.

            She returned as if she'd never left. . . .

            He'd glimpsed her in Angel's waiting area. . . being that Angel's waiting room was right across from his grandchilde's office.  

            She embraced Angel with an energy he hadn't seen her possess in a while.  Thankfully, this time, she didn't kiss the poof.  Spike didn't know if his heart could take it.  

            Wait.  His heart *could* take it because he was *long* over her. . . with her thick blonde hair and glowing green eyes.  He shivered but donned a mask of indifference, straightened his suit jacket, and marched into the waiting room, unflinchingly confronting Angel and Buffy's sign of affection.

            Buffy's face lit when she saw him, Angel frowned, and Spike felt his heart leap in his chest, but he pushed his feelings aside, keeping his face neutral.  

            "Spike," she whispered in his ear as she hugged him tightly.  When she drew back, she ran her tiny hands over his chest with joy and surprise.  "I don't think I've ever seen you wear a suit before."  Her voice was a little hoarse as if she'd been laughing a lot.  He vaguely wondered with whom she'd been having such a good time.

            He dropped his eyes from hers.  "Yeah, well, you haven't seen me in a while.  And I only wear it to work. . . part of the dress code here.  Actually, I don't wear it unless I have someone I have to impress."  He paused to keep himself from babbling further and studied her again.  "You look. . . happy."

            Buffy beamed.  "I am.  I am."

            "That's wonderful.  How's Dawn?"  He could still show concern for the Bit without seeming too obvious.

            "She's good.  She's started college this year."  Buffy was proud of her little sister.

            "So she finally decided that she needed an education?"

            "Yeah.  Your little speech about school's producing mindless automatons didn't help motivate her, by the way.  She used that as an excuse for quite a while."  She was more amused than annoyed.

            Buffy was bringing up things Spike had said years ago. . . things he hardly recalled saying.  Did that mean she still thought of him sometimes?  He mentally shook himself.  "Well, she always did look up to me."

            "True."  

            A familiar throat clearing filled the air.  Buffy turned from Spike, whom she had continued touching, and smiled at the source of the noise. 

            Angel was expertly scowling with crossed arms.  "Shall we?"  He waved her toward his open office door, implying they should leave Spike behind.

            Even though Angel and Spike had developed a tentative trusting relationship, when it came to Buffy, old rivalries died hard.  

            Intent on following Angel, Buffy broke away from Spike, allowing the air conditioner to sweep cold air between them.

            Thinking of Dru and Angelus from Days of Sunnydale unlife, Spike shook off the feeling of déjà vu, swallowed the lump in his throat, and straightened his shoulders.  She wanted to be with Angel.  She always had.  If that's what she wanted, that's what she'd get.

            But Buffy turned back and grabbed him by the elbow.  "Come on, Mr. Stoic.  You're involved in this, too."

            "I am?"  He smirked at Angel.  "Good.  I think."

* * *

            "Vampire Villa, I've heard of that before, I believe."  Wesley placed his fingers to his lips with a contemplative expression on his face.  

Angel, Buffy, and Spike had been interrupted by the ex-Watcher before they settled down enough to discuss Buffy's reason for being in L.A.  As the only remaining person on Angel's team that knew Buffy from the beginning or near the beginning, Wesley had been excited to see her again.  Now, he was deep in the discussion.

"I have," Angel noted.  "And so has Spike here, but neither of us has ever been there."

"It's a vampire city wedged between this dimension and the next," Wesley thought out loud.  "The Council never was able to uncover it.  In fact, they believed it to be a myth if I remember right."

Spike sat forward on the leather seat, touching the tips of his fingers together.  "The city has no sunlight.  Blood and death twenty-four seven.  A vampire paradise."

"Yeah," Buffy acceded to both of them, "that's what Giles said, too.  But recently, something's come up as a new inter-dimensional hotspot, and he believes that it has to do with this city."

"And what does he want us to do about it?" Angel asked.

"Well, with all the Slayers in the world, the vampire populace has been thinned quite a bit.  Additionally, we think. . . Giles thinks that the city has grown a lot and that there may be some sort of mystical push for it to spill over into our dimension.  It needs to be investigated.  Willow senses these changes in our dimension, in the Earth, and she said it's pretty urgent."

"Hmmm.  We could check with the evil bunch here.  See if they have anything on the place," Spike suggested.  

"Good idea."  Wesley stood.  "That's my area."  He didn't appear proud about saying that.  "I'll check into it."  He nodded to Buffy.  "Good to see you."

"Very good."  Buffy smiled and reached for a brief hug.  

Wesley exited, shutting the door with a soft click.

"Thanks," Angel said belatedly after Wesley, who probably didn't hear.  "So, Buffy, what exactly does Giles want *us* to do about it?"  

Buffy wandered to the open window.  Sunlight poured over the furniture, spilling onto Angel.  "I still can't get over this. . . seeing you in the sunlight."

Angel returned her affectionate look, and Spike wanted to gag.  He could stand in the sunlight anywhere. . . anytime he wanted.  

"Yeah.  Even Fred hasn't been able to duplicate it," Angel mentioned.

"Too bad," Buffy sounded a bit sad, and Spike thought that perhaps she was pondering what might have been.  

"So," Spike interjected, disrupting the reverie, "why do you need us?"

"We're going into Vampire Villa.  The three of us to stop them from overtaking the world," Buffy replied simply. 

"What?!" Angel exclaimed.  

Spike used Angel's flurry to remain calm.  "Now how would that work, love?"

Angel glared at his use of endearments with Buffy, but Buffy merely smiled. 

"Well, there's a prophecy," Buffy explained.  "And it sa. . ."

"There's always a prophecy, and prophecies aren't always right," Angel stated, thinking of multiple instances where they'd proved greatly inaccurate.  Spike snorted in agreement.  

Buffy kept speaking as if the two hadn't made a sound.  "And the prophecy says that the Slayer who is a vampire and her two vampire companions will stop the vampires from overtaking the world."

"I hate to say it, but there're three problems with that," Spike said.  "One, I'm not a vampire anymore.  Two, don't we already stop the vampires?  And aren't there tons of Slayers now, helping to do just that?  And three, you're not, nor have you ever been a vampire."

"Well, technically, . . ." Buffy started, recalling a time when a boy's nightmare had made other nightmares come to life.  Then, she shook her head.  "But that doesn't really count.  I mean, think about it.  We three are probably the strongest warriors in this dimension.  Who would be better to stop the city from crossing over?"

Spike leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the desk, which he knew Angel hated.  "But you're not thinking of having me re-vamped or getting vamped yourself, so how's it going to work for us to go into a city of thousands, if not millions, of vampires?" 

"It's awfully risky, Buffy," Angel agreed.  

Buffy held her hands up, so she could regain the floor.  "Well, that's the thing. . ."

The door banged open, and Fred burst into the room with Wesley on her heels.  "Buffy, hi!" she said exuberantly and slightly breathlessly.  Buffy gave her a wave in return.

Wesley held a book in his hand and read aloud, "There's a prophecy.  In the time of the. . ."

"We know," Buffy, Angel, and Spike said at the same time.

"Oh."  He was a bit deflated until he remembered that he had something to add.  "Well, Fred here has a solution to getting you three to blend into the vampire society."

Fred's brown eyes shone, and she tucked her hands into her white lab coat modestly.  "Yes.  Buffy, if you haven't heard, our lab has found a way to blend magick and technology.  We can create a spell slash miniature computer chip to insert into your brain to give you and Spike the appearance, strength, and feel of a vampire form without actually turning you into demons.  You'd blend seamlessly."  She hesitated briefly.  "That is, if you trust our lab. . . and the staff here. . . in this inherently evil establishment.  We wouldn't want you to do anything you felt uncomfortable with."

"I trust you guys," Buffy reassured.

"And what did our token evil representatives say?" Angel directed at Wesley.

Wesley clapped the book shut.  "They said that what Giles and Willow suggested or found is quite true.  In fact, they gave us the coordinates to an entrance from this dimension into theirs."

"Really," Spike said without removing the irony from his tone.  "How convenient."

"Willow gave us some, too," Buffy established.  "We'll use those. . . and be sure to check out the others. . . for clues or something."

"Sounds good."  Angel rose and picked up the phone.  "Let me make some calls, and we'll be all set."

* * *

            The doorbell rang just as everything in the skillet was sizzling out of control.  Cursing to himself, Spike slung the towel on his shoulder to the cabinet top, placed the skillet on a cool burner, and hurried to the door just as the bell rang again.

            He jerked open the door in a huff and was surprised to view Buffy standing in front of him.  Her hands were clasped behind her back, and her hair was pulled up on the sides, giving her an aura of youth.  She blinked up at him with a small smile.

            "Buffy."

            She sniffed the air.  "Somethin's burnin'," she teased.  

            "Yeah.  My dinner."  Unsure if he wanted her to invade his personal space, he blocked the entrance with his arm propped up on the wooden frame.  Truth be told, his heart was hammering despite his outward calm.

            "And you look much better in jeans and T-shirt.  That suit didn't suit ya."  She giggled at her own humor.  "I wanted to see your place," she said brightly, trying to peer around his body into his home.  "Angel said you moved into your own apartment."

            "Yeah, and you've seen it.  Now go away.  I'm cooking dinner."  His words came out harsher than he meant them to, and he inwardly cringed.  

            Hurt drifted across her face.  "Really?  I can't come in?"

            He felt like she was requesting entrance into his heart.  "Um, no.  Not right now."

            "Why not?"  Stubborn Buffy was emerging.  

            He was quite familiar with stubborn Buffy.  Was he willing to fight her?  He reminded himself that he should pick his battles, and he sighed.  "Okay.  You can come in."  Backing away, he held the door for her as she entered, taking everything in with wide eyes.  "Not that I really understand why you want to come in," he included under his breath.

Buffy stopped in her tracks and rounded on him, sending tingles of desire he'd thought long dead rippling over his skin.  "What did you say?"

"Nothing."

She advanced on him with her finger pointed.  "No, mister.  You said something.  Something about not understanding why I wanted to come in."

"Yeah.  So?"  

"Explain yourself."

Bloody women always wanted explanations for everything.  Still, the truth came flowing out of him like he'd been a huge water balloon, and she was a needle who pricked his skin.  "What happened?  I mean, between us.  I know you don't like to talk about. . . *us*, but I need to.  If I'm going to work with you, I need to.  You came and found me in Sunnydale on a *feeling*, and you never bothered to explain that to me.  You just brought me back to L.A., stayed a few weeks, and left with your Watcher.  Nothing was explained, and I-I was trying to be human again, you know?"  

He couldn't look at her anymore, so he stared off to the left.  "You can't just come in here after three years and act like you never left. . . touching me, coming inside.  It's not fair."  He inhaled deeply.  "And. . . and I have to know.  Are your cookies cooked yet?  And by the way, Angel *told* me that you *told* him the same thing you *told* me.  Only you told *him* first."  His last words came out accusingly and ended in him being a little amazed at what he'd just said.

Buffy stared at him.

He waved a hand at her.  "Don't worry, Angel didn't tell me all that sober.  He was right drunk when he told me that one, so there, his precious reputation stays intact."

            Feeling deflated, Buffy plunked down on the edge of his leather sofa, folding her hands on her lap.  "I'm sorry.  I-I thought I was doing what you wanted."

            Now she was turning on her tears, and Spike was falling for it.  He wanted to fall for it.  He sat beside her and spoke softly, fighting the desire to take her into his arms.  Not for the first time, he wondered how human Buffy would feel in his human arms.  One time was hardly enough to go on.  "I don't understand.  What did you think I wanted?"

            "You wanted me to go. . . to be myself. . . to be strong. . . to be 'the One.'"

            He tried to catch her eye.  "But Buffy, you don't have to be 'the One' anymore.  There's more than enough 'the One's' available."  He chuckled.  "That didn't make a whole lot of sense."

            She sniffed.  "Yeah, it did."  Wiping her eyes, she apologized, "I didn't mean to cry."

            "You're allowed.  You got to hear my outburst.  It didn't come out exactly right, but it's there nonetheless."  He handed her a tissue, and her fingers brushed his.

            "Yeah.  I needed to go.  I was twenty-two-years-old, and I had no clue who I was if I wasn't special. . . if I wasn't *the* Slayer, aside from Faith, and I-I felt overwhelmed.  There were too many pressures from my friends, from the new Slayers, from you.  Something had to give."

            "And that was me."  He kept his tone even and low.

            "I couldn't exactly give up my identity completely.  It would be too scary to go from. . ."

            "From being a Slayer who was responsible for so many lives to being one person helping just one other person?"

            She nodded.  "Uh huh."  She took his hand in hers, and he allowed the touch.  "Your hand is so warm."  She smiled through fresh tears.  "I forgot that it would be."

            "Did you figure it out?  Did you figure out who you want to be?"

            "Almost, yeah, I think so."  Her lips lifted a bit as she peered up at him.  "What about you?"

            Squeezing her hand and then letting it go, Spike sighed and moved back against the sofa.  "I'm still figuring.  Took me a bit to get my human legs, get used to not having extra physical strength.  But it's coming.  I'm a work-in-progress."

            Buffy imitated his movement.  "Me, too.  You think we ever stop being works-in-progress?"

            "Only if we're dead, pet, only if we're dead."

            "That's good.  'Cause I think I may need all the time I can get.  A-and I'm sorry I wasn't here for you."

            "I'm still here, aren't I?  Think we can work together?" Spike asked, playing with the tips of her long hair.

            She smiled.  "We'll muddle through.  Now. . . what's for dinner?  All that emotional release made me hungry."


	3. Chapter 2

**_Chapter 2_**

How did she get involved in such a mess?

Had she ever thought getting Angel and Spike together for a mission would be a *good* idea?  

Last night had involved an emotional discussion with Spike followed by a nice dinner and a lively discussion about the merits of reality television shows.  What had Spike said?  Oh yeah, "The wankers from Trading Spaces better never come renovate my home with their cheap bits and pieces."  Buffy almost laughed at the memory of his expression, but she held back.

Now, she was about to be put under for the vampire chip surgery, Spike hadn't arrived yet, and Angel was fussing at her about Spike's humanity. . . like she had anything to do with what happened to him.

"I just don't understand how *he* got to be human, and *I* didn't!" Angel was rambling. . . and pacing in the tiny cubicle where they waited for Fred to come prepare her for anesthesia.  

"I don't know, Angel," she said in a placating fashion, having heard the same complaints before.  Shifting uncomfortably in her hospital-type gown, she decided that she might have to play referee the whole mission.  

"Me either!"  He threw up his hands.  "I mean, the prophecies all pointed to *me* becoming human.  And what do I get for all my hard work. . . for all my years of having a soul and suffering?  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing."

"Wesley never figured out about whether Spike was shamp-whatever-ed?" Buffy asked, thinking that surely in three years they had an explanation for Spike turning human.

"That's the shanshu prophecy, and no, he didn't," Angel snapped, "but I think he might have been the one the prophecy referred to instead of me."

"Well, maybe there's a separate explanation for Spike's humanization.  Is that even a word?  And maybe yours will come later.  Until then, you have your health, your friends, and skin that will never ever wrinkle," Buffy refuted playfully.  

"But what I wouldn't do to get a wrinkle here and there!  Wrinkles give you distinction, show where you've been, show your life.  And Spike. . . he goes and gets a soul and a year later, *bam* he's human!"  Angel socked his hand with his fist.  "Do you know how long I've had *my* soul?"

She already knew the answer.  "Years and years?"

Angel agreed adamantly, "Damn right, years and years!  And it's so frustrating to see him happily figuring out his human body. . . learning how to, to eat real foods again to sustain himself. . . how to shave. . . how to get a tan. . . how to grow a garden. . ."

"Spike doesn't look like he has much of a tan, and I *so* cannot picture Spike growing a garden," Buffy pointed out.  "And there are things about being a vampire that have benefits. . . like the whole extra-human strength deal."

"Yeah, but still!  It's the idea that he has that option to do human things!"  Angel plopped down heavily next to her.  "It really sucks."

"Angel, what's the real reason Spike bothers you so much?"  

He was silent for several seconds as he studied his hands.  Then, "I guess that things just fall into his lap so easily. . . things it takes me forever to figure out.  You know what I mean?"

Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder.  "I think so."

Taking that as a cue to keep going, Angel extended his argument further, "I mean, Dru vamps him, and immediately, he uses us, his stable vamp family, to start breaking the rules.  And Dru, she loved him for it."

"Stable vamp family?"  Buffy raised her eyebrows.  "Don't think I've ever heard that one before."

"Well, he had three master vampires to guide him. . . and Dru's love to sustain him for over a hundred years.  And then, then, he came to Sunnydale, saved the world, ran off with Dru. . ."

"I'm well aware of Spike's history," Buffy cut Angel short. 

"I know.  And then, he decides he wants a soul, goes out and gets it, and just becomes this champion."  Angel was starting to repeat himself, which he tended to do when he was upset.  He slumped forward in defeat.

Buffy hugged his arm close to her body.  The touch was easy and familiar, and she was grateful that no matter how much time had passed, things would never be awkward between them.  "So you're upset that Spike seems to get things too easily?  Trust me, he hasn't had it easy.  You weren't there to see him struggle with his soul.  I saw it all.  And you've seen him struggle with being human.  And, and you should be proud of him.  He's your childe in a sense, and he's done quite well for himself.  Shouldn't you feel good that he's learned from his predecessors?"

Taking more time to respond, Angel's expression slowly went from one of self-pity to determination.  "You're right.  You're right."  His voice grew steadier on the repeat.  "I am proud of Spike."

The door opened at that moment, and Spike stood before them dressed in a hospital gown that mirrored Buffy's.  Buffy couldn't read his body language.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Spike said quietly, and Buffy became very aware that she was touching Angel with affection.

Angel had a quick comeback, "Don't believe everything you hear, Spike."  

Slowly, gently, she pulled away from Angel as if she was trying to avoid a scene between the two.  Addressing Spike, she asked, "You ready to be chipped?"

Spike shrugged.  "Not looking forward to my brain becoming a science experiment again, but yeah.  Gotta get my strength back, so I can help on this mission.  Feels almost like I'm regressing.  And I never thought I'd say that."

Long dark hair in bouncing curls, Fred poked her head around the corner, "Now that you're both here.  Let's get you ready to go under.  Now remember, you're going to wake up feeling very different.  And it's really a very safe procedure.  I've never done it before, but I've read the books."  

At the young scientist's words, Buffy's eyes grew round, and Fred's brow wrinkled in worry.

Angel intervened, "Fred is the most brilliant scientist here. . . probably in L.A.  She's taught herself medicine in the last three years, and I would trust her with my life."

Fred flashed him a grateful smile.  "W-well, I don't know about th. . ."

"I *do*.  We all do," Angel reassured her.

Spike and Buffy weren't completely convinced, and they walked side by side as they followed Fred through the empty halls of her science lab.  Angel lumbered along behind them, no doubt sullen with apprehension.  

They entered a small, extremely sterile room furnished with two hospital surgery tables.  Spike and Buffy climbed onto them, sharing a nervous grin.  They were going under the knife together.  

* * *

            The world came seeping back into her mind like a rushing river.  She'd dreamed of something, but she couldn't remember what it was.  Keeping her eyes tightly shut, she explored her other senses.

Her arms and legs moved of their own accord beneath the sheets, and she was struck by how different her muscles felt. . . almost as if they were humming with energy.  She was used to her Slayer strength. . . it felt like home to her, but this. . .this was completely different.  The desire to leap up and find something to pummel was stronger than she ever expected.  

A low growl escaped from the back of her throat.  

And her ears sprang to life.  Immediately everything sounded louder than normal.  She heard the steady beep of the heart monitor hooked up to her chest and the whoosh of the air conditioner.  She could even hear the drip of the IV that was fed into her arm.  

Was this what vampire hearing was like?  

Her hand flew to the place where her heart should be, and she felt nothing. . . no steady thrum touched her fingertips.  

But the sound from the heart monitor?  

She was confused, and another growl sprang forth involuntarily.

Then, she heard a snicker.  

Her eyelids popped open, and her world was awash with brilliant color and heightened awareness of motion.  Her eyes darted from the machines to her left to the clock on the wall to the unlit lamp beside her bed to the man. . . er, pseudo-vampire, sitting up across from her.  

Abruptly, Buffy righted herself, aware that her muscles were still tingling.  "Spike!"  

"Yeah, pet?"  Spike, who was still wearing his hospital gown, was watching her with an amused expression.

"You giggled at me."  She pouted and crossed her arms.  

"I did not. . . I *do not* giggle," he insisted, jutting his chin out.

"*Some* kind of laughing noise came from your side of the room."  

"Never heard you growl before," he returned.  "It was cute."

"I didn't growl!  Did I?"  She paused.  "Why is everything so bright?  And, and my body feels like. . ."

"Like you might burst unless you go out and get into a nasty scuffle?"  He balanced his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, smiling at her.

Buffy's eyes shone.  "Yeah.  That's it exactly.  It's like I'm. . ."  She trailed off as she glanced down at her bare arms.  "Oh my g. . ."

Spike was concerned.  "What's wrong now?"  

"Where did my tan go?" she lamented, holding her thin, pale arms up as if they weren't part of her.

"The appearance is pretty perfect, isn't it?  Science girl did an amazing job on our disguises.  I haven't felt this good physically in. . ."  He cocked his head to one side.  "Well, I guess it's been three years."  He knew exactly how long it'd been but wouldn't admit that to her.

Buffy didn't seem to comprehend what Spike was saying.  "It sucks," she sulked, drawling out the second word.  "I worked hard on that tan.  Hours and hours in the sun."

"Your disguise wouldn't go over too well in Vampville if you looked as if you'd been sunbathing, pet."

"I know," she said resignedly.  Then, her mind switched gears.  "I just thought of something!"  

Spike marveled at her excitement and said with nostalgia in his tone, "I remember the moment I first discovered all these little things.  Dru was with me, and she kept spinning in circles and singing to me about how wonderful it was that she had made me."

Buffy studiously ignored him.  Mindful of the IV line in her arm, she climbed out of the bed and scanned the room.  "If I were a mirror, where oh where would I be?"

"I don't think there's one in here."  Spike spied the tall reflective glass doors of the cabinet above the small sink and nodded to them.  "Check over there."

Dragging her IV stand with her, she hurried over to peer at herself and found that she didn't have a reflection.  "Damn it.  I wanted to see if I could make bumpies."

"No mirror image, love.  Part of the vampire package."

"Oh, yeah.  I knew that."

He patted the bed beside him.  "Come here.  I'll show you."

Buffy faltered for a moment but then perched on the edge of the bed next to Spike.  "Tell me how to make my bumpies."

When he was certain that he had Buffy's full attention, he began, "Okay.  Close your eyes."

"I have to close my eyes every time I want to get ridged?"

Spike laughed lightly.  "No.  Just trust me.  Do you trust me?"

With her eyes squeezed tightly shut, reminding Spike of a little kid trying too hard, Buffy nodded.  

"Okay.  Now think of something that really pisses you off and focus on that urge you have to fight."

She frowned.  "Something that pisses me off?"

Spike thought a moment.  Then, "You know, pet, this is actually one of my oldest fantasies."

"What is?"

Spike licked his lips in anticipation as he bent toward her ear, turned on his gravelly, evil tone, and whispered an assortment of fragmented, suggestive statements, ". . . having you by my side. . . turned to the forces of darkness. . . having you vamped so that I can have you any way I want you. . ."

With a roar, Buffy's eyes flew open, and rage shot through her system as Spike's tone triggered some dark memories from long ago that she had thought were long forgotten.  She leapt at the man sitting next to her, tackling him to the ground and yanking out her IV line and his as well.  

Before she could pin him down, he used her awkwardness and inertia to send her over his head to the ground behind him.  As soon as she contacted the hard surface, she sprang to her feet, breathing hard at the shock to her body.  

Blood flowed from the jagged cuts on each of their arms, filling the air with a coppery smell of which she had never been aware in the past.  The smell was intoxicating, and she held up her arm, fascinated by the scarlet streak swimming down her fair skin.  

Ignoring the brief fracas that had served its purpose, Spike smiled and distracted Buffy from her trance, "Buffy, love.  Your forehead."

She stared at him with something feral and wild in her eyes before she realized what he was saying.  Touching her now bumpy forehead tentatively, she broke into a toothy grin, flashing long, pointed canines at him.  "Wow!"  She ran her tongue over her teeth, drawing blood when they pierced her flesh.  "And wow!"

"You'll just have to practice, and then, you'll be able to do it anytime you want.  Just draw on your anger," he informed.  He couldn't help but be amazed by the excellent combination of magick and technology that Fred had put into their transformation.

"I'm pretty sure I can do that."  She was still feeling her forehead.  Then, she seemed to regain her uncertainty, and she asked, "How come I can't feel my heartbeat, but it still shows up on the monitor?  And how come I am attracted to the blood on my arm, but I have absolutely no desire to drink it?"  

Buffy's eyes shone at him with a light that he hadn't seen since she was in high school and her freshman year of college.  Spike enjoyed being the expert in the matter of vampire experience, and he opened his mouth to reply.

However, before he could give an explanation, a happy Fred lit into the room, still wearing her white coat and a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.  Propping her clipboard on her hip, she enlightened Buffy, "You're still human, so you have a heartbeat; it's just disguised from others' senses, but the technology like heart monitors can still detect it.  And you're attracted to the blood because you'll need to be to survive in the vampire society.  But, you can't get nutrients from the blood.  You'll have to eat human food.  Human flesh can't survive solely on the blood."

"Oh."  Buffy slid back into her human visage without realizing it.  

"And I gave you guys heightened senses, so you'll respond like a normal vampire, and if you happen to get into a fight, you," here she nodded to Spike, "will have the strength to survive."

"Sounds like you covered all the bases," Angel said as he appeared in the doorway, surveying Buffy and Spike's rumpled hospital gowns and broken IV's with a funny expression.

"I think I did," Fred said, adding, "I hope I did."

"You did quite well, pet," Spike acknowledged.  "I haven't been a vampire in a while, but I remember, and it feels exactly right. . . except for the not craving blood part."

Fred colored slightly.  "Thanks."

"Spike," Angel intoned a bit grimly.  "We need to finish getting ready for the mission."

"Right.  Give a fellow a few to put some proper clothes on."  Spike wondered why Angel seemed so serious.

Angel turned to Buffy as if he was dreading revealing what he had to say next.  "And Buffy?"

"Yeah?"  

He held up a cordless phone, and Buffy's heart sank as what he was about to say dawned on her.  "You have a phone call from Cleveland."  His brown eyes bore into hers.  "From your boyfriend."

Buffy ducked her head and accepted the phone as if it were a snake. . . as if she didn't want to touch it.  "Thanks," she mumbled.

She expected the neutral, quiet disappointment on Angel's face.  He was used to her having new significant others.  She cast a quick glance at Spike. . . the one she was most concerned about.  Apparently, none of Fred's technology and magick could change how openly Spike displayed his feelings.  The hurt was raw and pure in his eyes. . . etched into his features as if permanently imprinted.

She hadn't meant to hurt him, and his hurting meant she hurt, too.  Even though she half-expected it, she was surprised just how much his feelings still had the ability to affect her.  With a heavy heart, she watched him follow Angel and Fred out of the room to give her some privacy.  

She fervently wished that she could reach out to him and tell him that she wasn't serious about the guy on the other end of the phone. . . that they'd only been dating two weeks. . . that the guy was completely ignorant of who she really was.

But she didn't.  

She was afraid he would turn away.

With reluctance, she clicked on the phone.  "Hello?" she whispered hoarsely into the receiver.

TBC. . . I promise this is B/S. . . be patient. . . Buffy has her reasons.  Also, the Shanshu prophecy will be explained later in the series, and in the next chapter, they'll finally start on their adventure to Vampire Villa.  Sorry that this was another set-up-the-plot chapter. . . 

Hope you enjoyed! ;o)  Sandy


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

            Shifting the small pack he'd slung over his shoulder, Spike tramped in silence behind Buffy and inhaled the sharp pine scent that thickly permeated the air.  They'd been traveling on foot for hours because no manmade roads pointed to their destination.  Angel's car was long forgotten on the side of the highway.

Angel was leading the way ahead of Buffy, and Spike was content to let him play tour guide through the dense forests somewhere along the border of East Texas and West Louisiana.  

            First, they were going to check out the coordinates given to them by the Wolfram and Hart crew, and then, they planned to head a bit further south to the spot Willow had pinpointed as a probable entrance to Vampire Villa.  

            Crickets and katydids chirped and hummed in the humid night air, and Spike tried not to let Buffy's closeness disturb his determined stoicism.  He wasn't sure when he'd be able to forgive her betrayal.  

It wasn't the fact that she was dating some other bloke that bothered him. . . well, actually it did bother him.  It felt like she'd twisted a bloody knife in his gut, and that was a feeling with which he was well acquainted.

            However, what got his gander even more was the fact that she'd left that tiny detail out when she'd arrived in L.A.  He'd thought that was something she wouldn't forget to mention like Dawn started school, she and Giles were training the Slayers, Xander was married. . . and oh yeah, she had a sodding boyfriend.

            For three days after the surgery, he'd hidden from her within the walls of the massive law firm.  The first day, after the painkillers had worn off, he'd had a massive headache despite what Fred had done to speed his healing with magick.  He'd slept on the sofa in his office most of the day after discovering, interestingly enough, that despite his outward appearance as a vampire, he could still enter the sunlight without harm.  

            Buffy must have been recuperating as well because the next day, just as he had been feeling a little less like someone had pounded his head in with a sledgehammer, he had heard her uncertain knock on his office door.  He had marveled at how vastly different her hesitancy was from the past when she would have kicked down the barrier between them and entered in a huff.  

She'd probably known better.

            She had given up after ten minutes or so of waiting for a response, but she'd returned every couple of hours like clockwork to try again.  A couple of times she'd left him covered plates of food just outside the door as if she were trying to make up for her mistake by attempting to fill the hollow pit in his stomach for him.

            After a whole afternoon of Buffy's persistence, Spike had headed into the extensive hidden and dank passageways of the evil law firm, searching for an empty room to train and get re-acquainted with his fake vampire senses and muscle flow.  

            Lilah had approached him in the unlit halls, bragging to him about how easy he was to find because she'd used Gunn's overhauled security system to pinpoint all the demons in the building.  She'd guessed where he was on the first try, and she'd had some important message for him about Angel.  

            What had she told him?  It was a message from her evil superiors.

            Oh, yeah.  She'd said that on their quest, Angel would be finding out something very important about a prophecy that he had been meant to fulfill but hadn't.  He was supposedly in charge of making sure Angel stayed on track when and if he learned whatever it was he was supposed to learn.  

            Spike had no clue what Lilah had been prattling on about, but he'd found over the years that even though they had evil ulterior motives, Lilah's bosses could be dead-on accurate about a lot of things.

            Just then, Spike was shaken out of his memories by running smack into Buffy.  Her unique essence filled his nose, and he silently cursed himself for being moved by her very presence.  

            Outwardly, he groused, "Some warning would have been nice."  He was distinctly aware of the double meaning behind his words.

So was Buffy.  She shot back a clipped shush but didn't look back at him.  She hadn't really looked at him since they'd started the trip.

Spike stepped away from her, directing his senses into the trees and beyond their small group.  The sound and sight of movement caught his attention.  Leaves rustled loudly, and branches snapped.

With the instinctual trust that they had built the last few years and in their prior years of hunting together as vampires, Spike and Angel fell into a well-used pattern.

Spike circled left and back the way he'd come while Angel took the path right and around.  Buffy followed their lead and stayed alert and unmoving in the same spot.

Predictably, their quarry walked right into their trap, and they hurriedly closed in on a male who seemed to have been running a long way because he was stumbling and crying and panicking.

In fact, he didn't see where he was going through his emotional state, and Spike caught him, pinning his arms at his sides.

Vampire. . . a very young but surprisingly clean vampire.

The vampire rolled his eyes wildly and thrashed about, cursing.  "Let go of me!  They're after me, and I can't let them get me!  I need out of here now!"  

Angel loomed behind him and aided Spike in slamming their prisoner against a nearby tree.  Buffy hovered at Spike's elbow, and he resisted the urge to pull away from her.

The vampire blinked away the shock of their force and stared into Angel's glowing yellow eyes.

"Listen," Angel growled loudly to get him to stop fighting them.  "Who's chasing you?  Maybe we can help."

"You can't help me against them.  *No one* can help me," the youth insisted.  "I just have to get away. . . get back to my home.  It's safe there."  He lunged against them again to no avail.  "Let go of me!" 

Spike and Angel exchanged knowing glances.  They'd caught themselves a young vampire who was afraid of something.  That wasn't good.  Youthful vamps were supposed to be fearless and reckless. . . not afraid.

The vampire continued, "Listen.  Can't you hear them coming?  You'd do best to hide until they pass."

Something was thundering in the distance. . . a lot of something.

And that something was rapidly getting nearer.  

"Hide?  Hide where?" Buffy asked, not wanting to be left out of the vampire bonding moment.  

The vampire lurched forward again, and this time, Spike and Angel let him go.  "The city."

"What city?"  There was no place that could be considered a city for miles. . . except for a small rice-farming town.

The vampire gave them an incredulous look as if they were crazy.  "You don't know the city?"  He gave their attire the once over.  "I guess you don't *look* like you know the city."

Spike nudged Angel, and Angel realized what the young vamp was saying and offered, "That's actually where we were headed.  Mind if we tag along?"

The source of the noise was within a hundred feet, and it almost sounded like slithering.  And branches weren't just snapping. . . trees were emitting sharp cracking sounds and crashing to the earth.

The youth nodded and began jogging slowly until they matched his tempo and then ran more rapidly.  

Whatever was chasing the vampire began increasing speed and as Spike brought up the rear of the group, he dodged trees and fallen limbs with alacrity, relishing the power of his new body.  

Abruptly, the vamp leading them halted, and immediately their pursuers seemed louder.  The young vamp whipped out a small, handheld device and traced a line in the air.  

A portal swept open, glowing green with invitation.  

Once it was wide enough, the vampire ducked through the crackling doorway.  

Spike paused to glance back into the darkness as Angel hurtled through behind the youth.  Squinting his eyes against the pitch black, he couldn't make out anything distinct, but he thought he almost saw. . .

Before he could let his mind comprehend what his eyes were detecting, Buffy grabbed his arm and pulled him into the hazy cloud of the gateway to Vampire Villa.  

* * *

            Spike landed neatly on his feet at Buffy's side.  Disorientation from the dimensional shift overcame him for a few seconds, but Buffy's hand, steady on his arm, brought him back to reality.  The sky above was completely free of heavenly bodies.  However, the ground was similar to the one they'd just left, and they were standing on a small cliff with a few random pine trees surrounding them.  

            "It's like this is the overlapping edge between dimensions," Spike mumbled to himself.

            The young vampire, who had pocketed whatever device had opened the portal, heard him.  "That's right.  And down there, that's the city."

            Spike, Buffy, and Angel peered over the edge of the cliff to view a massive array of dense lights shimmering in the valley.  Buildings of various heights jutted up like a thick field of corn stalks, and either direction the three gazed, the sea of the metropolis was endless.  

            "Oh my god," Buffy whispered, bringing her hand to her mouth in horror at the thought of all the vampires that must live there.

            Their vampire companion took her shock as amazement and moved to stand in her personal space, breathing in her ear, "Yeah.  Isn't it wonderful?  I bet you've never seen anything like it!"

            Buffy moved back from the violating vampire and into Spike's chest.  Spike's protectiveness won out over his annoyance with her, and he allowed her to remain against him.  They were entering a turf that was most definitely not their own, and they would have to support one another.  Other personal issues could be dealt with later.

Angel caught Spike's eye and telegraphed an entire conversation in the space of a second.  They needed to get away from this vampire to discuss strategy.  On the other hand, the young vampire might prove to be an invaluable resource.  

Angel cleared his throat.  "We haven't properly been introduced.  My name is Liam, and this is William and Elizabeth."

The vampire raised an eyebrow.  "What century are you guys from?"

The three didn't respond.

The youth let out an awkward laugh.  "Right, right.  You guys must be old."  He held out a hand to them and announced, "I'm Michael.  I'm two. . . er, two in vamp years.  Nice to make your acquaintance."  

Angel grasped the proffered hand, and then, Michael turned on his heels and started jauntily away from them as if they had never met.

Typical vampire.

"Wait," Angel called after him.

Michael glanced back over his shoulder but didn't turn fully around.  "Yeah?"

"Could you at least let us know a good place to stay in the city?" 

"Oh, yeah.  Sure."  Michael thought for a moment.  "Stay at Kooch's.  It's right at the edge of the city in neutral territory.  Got free blood in every room, and the owner is discreet with newbies to the city like yourselves.  Welcome to Vamp Villa.  You got a free ticket in."  Then, he flipped Angel and Spike each an oddly-shaped coin, which was different from the monies the Wolfram and Hart crew had given them for use in the vampire city.  "Those are for the hotel.  Enjoy your stay."

Without another word, he resumed his trek away from them.

When Michael was out of earshot, Spike was the first to speak, "What the hell was that out there?"  

Buffy scooted back from Spike, and he silently mourned the loss of her presence at his side. . . no matter what she had done.  She gave him an almost timid glance and said, "I don't know, but it seemed like it might have been reptilian."  She held up her hands in confusion.  "It?  They?  I think there was more than one."

"A whole lot more than one," Angel acknowledged.  "What matters right now is that we're still intact and that we made it into the city."

"On W and H terms," Spike added in a tone that said he felt a little uncomfortable with that.  He reached for his pocket without realizing what he was doing.  Patting the empty jeans, he sighed.  He hadn't smoked a cigarette since becoming human, but he was sorely tempted right about now.  

"Wonder where Willow's coordinates would have taken us?" Buffy wondered aloud, crossing her arms and changing the position of her feet.  She was attracted by the notion of sitting down after their run, especially since they had been walking long before they'd met Michael.  She gazed longingly at the city.  Any place of rest would do.  "It looks so innocent from up here. . . warm and safe with all the lights in the darkness."

"It's hardly going to be that," Spike admonished.

Buffy turned to Angel for confirmation.

"Spike's right.  We'll have to be on our toes here on out.  But at least, we made it.  Willow's coordinates or no."  Angel paused.  "We'll make a plan in the morning."

Buffy made a list of goals, "Find out about scary reptilian things and what they're doing in our dimension.  Check.  Uncover and thwart evil vampires from taking over the world.  Check.  Got the plan ready."

"Great.  All in a days work. . . that we'll accomplish tomorrow," Spike said wearily.  "We need to get ourselves acquainted with the city first and get some shut eye before that."

Angel agreed, "Some respite should come first."

            With that, they headed single file down the narrow path that Michael had paved for them.  Silence prevailed among them as they were too exhausted to make even polite conversation.

* * *

            Kooch's turned out to be an extremely small human-style motel on the very edge of the city.  It was so far on the edge that nothing but a few trees and brush surrounded it.  A flickering neon sign with several unlit letters, reading "Kh's," greeted Angel, Spike and Buffy, and an almost imperceptible glow lit the vacancy sign below.  No cars filled the lot, but would the vampires really drive here?

            They circled the place a few times before determining that there was no office and no staff.  Instead, they found a squat, vending-like machine under a pole with a rusty metal shelter/roof.  No wonder the place was newcomer friendly; it seemed virtually deserted.

            Angel and Spike examined the machine while Buffy played lookout for loitering vamps.

"Looks like there're two rooms available," Angel concluded.  

"Yep.  And only one has a bathroom for showering," Spike added with a touch of amusement.  

Attempting to peer around Angel's tall form, Buffy perked up at the notion of a shower.  "I could definitely use one of those.  I call that room."

"Guess we're stinking roomies, mate."  Spike grinned at Angel as the only real vampire among their party shoved the coins Michael had given them into the machine.

Angel carefully pushed the proper buttons to obtain the two remaining rooms.  As he gathered both sets of keys into his palm, he said quietly to Spike, "I don't like the idea of Buffy staying by herself surrounded by who knows what kind of vampires."

Frowning and planting her hands on her hips, Buffy jutted herself in between the two males to remind Angel that she was standing right there.  "I can take care of myself.  Come on.  I thought you knew that by now."

Pushing aside the events of the last few days, Spike allowed himself to be entertained by Buffy's stubbornness.  He crossed his arms and smirked at Angel.  "Looks like you have a dissenter."

Angel ignored Spike and focused on the woman he still loved with a passion.  "You haven't been around vampires that much."

Buffy tensed.  "Um, beg to differ.  *Vampire slayer* here."

"I meant. . . never mind."  Angel leaned toward her and glanced around fearfully.  "Be careful how loud you say things, Buffy."

Buffy's eyes flashed yellow.  Angel was irritating her, mainly because she was exhausted and just wanted the comfort of a private room.  "Elizabeth.  If you're going to be that sensitive about everything I say, call me Elizabeth here.  *Liam.*"

"Fine, Elizabeth.  I don't want. . . ," Angel changed his words mid-stream, "I *won't* have you staying alone."

"Okay, then."  Buffy snatched the key to room with a bathroom from Angel's hand and spun on her heel.  She tugged loose one of Spike's hands from his crossed arms and dragged the startled man with her.  "Spike will stay with me."

"Pet."  Fear and hurt ripped through Spike's gut.  He did *not* want to be trapped alone with her in a small room.  He'd rather go out and face the reptile buggers again than face her and the absent boyfriend that hung between them like the proverbial elephant.  

"Buf. . . Elizabeth," Angel called.  "If you're doing this to spite me. . ."

Buffy stopped in her tracks and faced Angel.  "I'm not.  I'm just tired and rapidly getting beyond grouchy, and I just want to go to sleep without someone fussing over me."

Angel's face was an unreadable mask as they left him behind.  Spike wasn't fooled by the vampire's surface placidity.  He knew what kind of hurt lay underneath it.

He knew what lay underneath it because he felt the same sense of betrayal.  

And would either of them really benefit from staying in a room with her, recognizing that neither of them ever stood a chance in the arms of Buffy Summers?

In that moment, Spike believed that he had somehow gotten the short end of the stick.

* * *

TBC. . . So who is Michael?  Will they run into him again?  What will they do to gather info on what's going on in Vamp Villa?  What mysterious thing is Angel going to discover?  What will happen between Spike and Buffy in their room?  Stay tuned. . .

Thanks for the reviews everyone! I'm having fun writing this! Let me know what you think, okay? :o) Feedback is very much appreciated! *hugs* :o)


	5. Chapter 4

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 4 _**

Without speaking to one another, Buffy and Spike entered their dark room that had no outside window. A strange smell met Spike's nose, but he couldn't quite identify it, so he decided it was a quality of the decrepit building. As Buffy shut and latched the door behind him with a soft click, Spike flipped on the only switch he could locate along the wall. Low light flooded the room to reveal that a single bed was the only piece of furniture in the room besides the overhead light. Clean sheets that looked as if they'd been washed some time ago were folded atop the small mattress. 

One bed. Just bloody great. 

Buffy caught sight of his expression and touched his arm tentatively. "Spike." His name was a whisper on her lips. . . almost undetectable.

Even though it went against what every fiber of his being was screaming, he shrugged her touch away, only deciding to hide his disdain at the last second and covering his hurt with minimal effectiveness. Striding to the bed and ignoring her eyes watching him, he tossed his bag to the ground and started roughly choosing some sheets out of the pile. 

"About what happened with my. . . the phone call. . . ," she began waveringly. 

Spike pretended like he hadn't heard her attempt to smooth things over between them. He didn't want to play makeup; he'd had enough of her games to last lifetimes. "I'll make a pallet on the floor."

"It didn't mean what you. . . ," she continued bravely, standing still in the center of the room with her hands folded behind her back. 

Spike jerked one of the sheets out beside him so that it fanned out a little over the mattress. He shot her a piercing glare. "Look. I don't want to deal with your personal life while we're on this mission. We have enough to think about and do without the soap opera of your indecisiveness."

"Angel wasn't this petulant about what happened," she sniped back.

Beginning to arrange the sheets on the dirty floor well away from the bed, Spike lowered his voice, "I'm not Angel, pet."

At his non-responsiveness, Buffy's temper began unraveling, and she let it tumble apart, closing in on him as she spoke. "Well, at least, *he* let me talk with him about it. At least, *he* didn't hide in his office for three days like a big nancy boy, not eating, avoiding everyone. Boo hoo. Buffy got a boyfriend. Geez! It's been *three* years! What was I supposed to do? Hide under a rock? Not be around other people? Not live?"

As Buffy gave her brief, overly emotional speech, Spike sat back on his heels with his arms on his thighs, not centering his attention on anything other than her words. When she finished her diatribe, Spike rose from where he had been kneeling and fastened an intent look on her. . . one filled with a melting pot of emotions. . . deep, unrequited love, raw hurt, and sharp anger. 

Hadn't he always encouraged her to live. . . to grow. . . to be happy even in his soulless vampire days when he made mistakes? He never wanted her to pine away her life, and she knew it. And slowly, as she watched with shock and growing regret, a wall began going up, covering him. . . hiding away all the things he always so openly shared with her in the past.

With a deadpan voice, he said simply, "You obviously don't know who I am."

Buffy hesitated and almost reached for him, but in the end, she didn't. Slinging her pack off her shoulder, she stomped toward one of the doors. "I'm going to take a shower," she declared.

One hundred retaliatory comments rushed through Spike's head, including the immature compulsion to shout Dawn's patented "Get out, get out, get out!" at her. However, he chose to say nothing and busily ignored her.

Buffy tugged on the gritty doorknob, but the door was somehow jammed. Rather than ask Spike for help, she concentrated at her goal of taking a shower, focusing all her confusion and unresolved emotions on the inanimate object in front of her. 

Finally, Spike could stand her small grunts of exasperation no more. "Need help?"

"No, no," she batted down his offer. "I got it."

With one last tug, the door sprang open, and Buffy flew back a bit with the motion.

She took one look at the contents of the tiny room, which was definitely not a bathroom, and screamed.

Concerned about Buffy and alarmed about what the vampire neighbors might think, Spike hopped up from where he was feigning nonchalance. "What's wrong?"

Buffy merely pointed with a covered mouth. Spike directly saw what she was so upset about. 

Inside the tiny closet was what seemed to be a ten- or eleven-year-old boy with shaggy hair. Spike identified the source of their room's odd smell. Tattered, filthy rags hung off the boy's emaciated frame, and his bare arms, legs, neck, and even his cheeks were littered with vampire bite marks. Spike observed that although the boy was not bound in any fashion, no doorknob graced the inside half of the door. His brown eyes were huge and sunken in his skull, and he didn't appear to have the energy to go anywhere. . . to fight back any sort of attack. . . much less one of a demonic nature.

Buffy recovered enough to move toward the boy cautiously. She reached out a hand to touch him, but he shrank against the back wall of the closet.

"Careful, Buffy. We don't know what he's been through," Spike warned. 

"We can see what he's been through," Buffy corrected. She presented the boy with a small smile. "It's okay. We're not going to hurt you. We want to help you."

As Spike viewed the scene between Buffy and the boy, bitterness rose in his throat. For some reason, seeing her help someone else made him wonder why she hadn't stayed to help him. . . someone she'd given every indication of caring deeply about. 

Pushing those feelings aside, he made excuses for her. He reminded himself that after countless years of being immersed in death and despair, she'd had little time to figure out who she was and deal with the aftermath of her own emotional destruction at the hands of the darkness, much less deal with his vulnerability upon becoming human. 

He understood, but he couldn't quite forgive her.

After several minutes of coaxing and gentle words, Buffy helped the child to the pallet Spike had made. She'd tried to get him to lie down on the bed, but he refused to go near it. Spike had a feeling he knew what the boy might have suffered on the bed, but he didn't want to frighten Buffy with too many details about it. 

Buffy found a nutrient bar in her pack and handed it to the boy who snatched it eagerly from her grasp and began gulping it down. His eyes remained steadfast on her as if he was afraid she might take away the food or slap him down. 

As Buffy watched the boy, tears filled her eyes from the stress of the evening, and Spike patted her arm. He wouldn't let himself do more than that even though his instincts told him to take her in his arms or rub the tension from her shoulders. 

"What's he doing here, and what will we do with him?" Buffy asked a while later as the boy finally allowed his hyper-alertness to fall, and the need for sleep overcame him. 

"Didn't Michael say there was fresh blood in every room?" Spike half-asked, half-reminded her. "There's probably a human in every room."

"That's beyond horrible. I wonder if Angel has found his yet?" Something in her green eyes begged him to let her know somehow that things were temporarily okay between them. 

Giving in, Spike sighed. "Should we. . . I mean, we should go check."

They went together.

Angel had indeed found a young woman in his closet. She too was resting peacefully but in Angel's bed. As soon as Buffy saw that the woman was safe, she and Spike returned to their room. 

"What'll we do about the rest of them?" Buffy asked Spike as they made up the bed together. 

"The rest of the humans trapped in this motel?" Spike fastened a sheet around the edge of the mattress.

Buffy imitated Spike's action on the other side of the bed. "Yeah. Are we going to rescue them all? Like a jailbreak? Dust all the vamp guests and free the slaves?"

"Don't know if we can do that. It would probably cause too much of a ruckus and blow our cover," Spike said thoughtfully.

"I don't like it," she declared as if that changed the situation. 

"We don't have much of a choice." Spike read Buffy's discontent and appended, "If you want, after we finish the mission, we'll come back here and free everyone. How's that?"

Knowing he was just placating her, Buffy peeked back at the sleeping boy with sadness and doubt on her face. "We will."

"We will," he corroborated.

The bed was made.

"I'm too tired to shower. Do you mind if we share?" She waved at the bed, using body language to explain further.

Spike reluctantly acquiesced. "Yeah. Let's."

Slipping under the covers after Buffy because he turned out the light, Spike was very careful not to touch her and kept his back facing her. Unhappily, he was on the edge of the bed, but then, so was Buffy. Stomach in knots, he finally gave in and settled toward her. Soon, they lay on their sides, facing away from each other, backs pressed firmly together. 

He thought ironically that they'd always had each other's back. 

And he relished her touch more than he was willing to admit.

Just as he was about to drift off to sleep, he made an abrupt decision and rolled onto his back, jarring Buffy from the edge of her dreams.

"What's his name?" he whispered, poking her a little with his elbow to ensure that she was well on her way to waking.

"W-what?" Her voice was muffled, slightly disoriented. 

"His name," he repeated.

"Whose name?" She sounded a bit more coherent.

"The git you're dating. What's his name?"

"Why do you want to know?" Her voice carried a mix of slight levity and frustration.

He reached down beneath the sheets and swallowed her cool hand in his. She allowed the touch. "I just do."

"His name is Jonathan," she stated neutrally. "He's a psychologist."

"Oh." He dropped her hand. 

She picked his hand back up and inched closer to him, noting the tenseness of his muscles at each spot her body contacted his. "Spike. I broke up with him." She was too tired to explain why. . . too tired to go into great detail. 

"Oh," he said again with a lighter tone. Despite this revelation, he still felt like he didn't really know her anymore. . . not after they'd spent three years living separate lives. He knew they'd both been struggling, but he was more intimately aware of his own inner turmoil than hers. Would the gulf ever be crossed? He didn't know, and his thoughts and feelings were a jumbled mess. With ease, he gave up trying to figure it all out. . . at least for the remainder of the night.

As he was contemplating these things, Buffy rolled onto her side again. This time, he allowed her to snuggle closer in reassurance that things were a little better between them. . . at least until tomorrow.

* * *

Some people had an inner clock that told them to wake up after exactly so many hours of sleep no matter how exhausted they were the previous evening. Spike was one of those people. Being a covert poet at heart, he was also a person who was profoundly affected by his dreams.

And what had he dreamed?

As he woke, the essence of his dreams overpowered his thoughts and feelings, enshrouding him with a warm, gentle afterglow. His dreams had been filled with a hope he didn't ever remember feeling. . . except before he was vamped by Dru. The hope was of a purity that comes only with innocence or youth. . . the kind that leaves the vaguest hint of a smile on the lips all day long for no particular reason except that one's soul is *happy*. 

The bubble of peaceful oblivion was shattered as he realized the source of his hope and dreams was a young woman whose arms and legs were wrapped tightly around him, tangled with his limbs as if they fit together like pieces of the same puzzle. 

In seconds though, the events of the last three years, the last few days, flew back into his awareness, and he was filled with the urge to push her away and storm out of the room into the perpetually dark Vampire Villa. He had every right to do just that.

However, before he could, something stopped him.

Buffy stirred in his arms and let out a noise so faint that he almost couldn't identify it. Then, his brain identified it.

She had said his name. 

At first, he was inclined to dismiss the quiet sound as a figment of his imagination, but then, she repeated the single syllable, this time with more urgency and matching tension in the muscles throughout her body. 

A bit alarmed, Spike halfway sat up, peered down at her, and was shocked that her fair cheeks were damp with cascading tears. His heart went out to her because despite her outward reactivity, her mind was still far from consciousness. 

Tenderness filled him. . . something that he hadn't felt toward her since he'd learned about her boyfriend. (Granted her revelation wasn't that long ago, but it felt like months in his mind.) Spike stroked her tears away with gentle fingertips and kissed her eyelids delicately until she quieted and slowly began to awaken from her nightmare.

When she opened her eyes and smiled up at him with an expression he could only describe as relief, his heart swelled with compassion. 

"You're here," she murmured with evident joy, burying her face in his chest.  
  
Greatly relieved that she was okay, he returned her delight, "Yeah. Where else would I be?"

As soon as the words left his lips, her face fell, and sorrow touched her eyes, threatening to fill them with tears once more. 

With sincerity, he asked, "What were you dreaming, pet?"

Shying away from him, she ducked her head. "Nothing."

"No, no. Not nothing. You were having a nightmare and sobbing." He caressed her hair briefly. "A-and you said my name."

"I did?" she asked as if she hadn't realized it, meeting his eyes with an indecisive glance.

He didn't believe her. "You did. So tell me, what's going on?"

"Y-you'll think it's stupid." Tears tinged her tone.

"Pet, I won't think it's stupid. Granted, some of the choices you make are bloody stupid in my opinion, but your feelings aren't stupid."

She was silent for several seconds as if she were trying to decide how best to tell him the truth. Taking a deep breath, she admitted in a rush, "Okay. I've had nightmares about you for three years. Actually, I keep having the same nightmare. Sometimes I have it more frequently than other times." Then, she tacked on, "I've had it a lot lately."

Spike was stunned. "For three years?"

She nodded with a childish expression that occasionally accompanies frightening dreams. "Uh huh. Since I found you in the crater."

"What kind of nightmares?" He slipped his hand in hers and held it loosely. He wasn't sure if his gesture was meant to reassure her or himself. Relaxing against the mattress, he laid his head against the mattress parallel to hers. "Slayer dreams?" Slayer dreams might mean he would face some as yet undetermined doom. Buffy had been known to have prophetic dreams that were uncannily accurate. 

Shaking her head, she whispered, "N-no. Not Slayer dreams." 

"About me?"

"Yeah." She didn't seem to want to tell him more.

But he had to know, "Tell me about them."

She took some time to gather her thoughts, and he vaguely wondered if she were trying to decide which parts to tell him. "Okay." She rubbed her thumb against his palm. "I dream that I have that feeling I told you about. It's so strong in my dreams that I am often overwhelmed by it."

"What feeling?" He needed her to be explicit.

"The one I had in L.A. before I went back to Sunnydale to find you." She released his hand momentarily to straighten the arc of her golden hair fanning back behind her. 

"Ah." Her tiny hand readjusted itself until it was enfolded into his.

"Only this time, sometimes I go back to Sunnydale and sometimes I don't."

"So, you don't go back for me?" 

She studied his eyes, trying to get a sense of what he might be feeling. "No. Sometimes I do. And if I do, I spend what feels like hours in the crater. . . trapped and searching for you. I find all kinds of things that remind me of home. . . photo albums I lost, mom's jewelry, my sticker collection. . ."

He snickered. "Your sticker collection? Little decals of butterflies and hearts and puppies?"

"Yeah! And fairies!" She mock-glared at him, pushing against his chest teasingly. "I used to collect them."

"In what, third grade?"

"Did I say it made sense? Point is, as I'm searching, I find bits of my old life, but I can't find you. And I get scared." The confession of her reaction to her dream came out almost inaudibly. Before Spike could ask about her fear, she changed directions, "And other times, I dream about that *feeling*, and I'm stuck in Cleveland or L.A., and I somehow know that you're there. So, I end up walking all over the city, searching. Usually, I think that I almost catch a glimpse of you, but you always evade me. Or if I do catch up to the person I think is you, it's not you, you know?" Tears filled her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. 

Spike didn't quite know how to respond, so he merely stroked her hair. Then, "But you did find me, and I'm alive." 

Her eyes soft with unshed tears, she smiled and traced a short path on his forehead. "I know. When I wake up, I know."

They lay facing one another for a while with an amicable peace between them. For some reason, Buffy's profession about her recurring dream had whittled away part of the wall Spike had built between them, and he allowed himself to explore her emerald eyes for greater acceptance. With a new boldness, she met him halfway, not focusing on anything but the blue depths before her. 

When Buffy's eyelids started to droop heavily, Spike could stand it no longer. "Pet, can I ask you a question?"

Her lids made an attempt to rise higher. "Sure."

"Can you tell me more about that *feeling* you had?"

She was evasive, "What feeling?"

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Was she going to deny him the truth yet again? "You know, the one that led you to look for me."

Squirming a bit on her area of the bed, Buffy sighed. "I wish I could tell you. I've tried to reason it out, but nothing seems to work. Jonathan says that sometimes. . ."

Spike stiffened. "Jonathan says what?" he interrupted without thinking. His voice contained a mixture of hurt and defensiveness that he'd temporarily stowed away in the back of his mind.

Buffy seemed to retreat a bit at his abrasive reaction, but she trudged ahead, albeit a bit more meekly, "He says that sometimes people have feelings that can't be explained by reason, by logic. But he also says that people have a choice about how to respond to those feelings."

Spike was beyond contending with her words, and he said the first thing that came to his mind, "Buffy, is he your therapist?"

The callousness of his disruption normally would have caused Buffy's temper to flare, but she'd had three years of life changes under her belt, and she forced herself to remain calm and not give in to the temptation to lash back. "No, he's not. I *did* see someone for counseling for about a year, and *she* worked in the same office he did. That's how I met him."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, oh."

Spike was distinctly aware that the temporary closeness he'd felt with the woman before him was disintegrating, but before he could remedy the re-opened wound, the door to their room banged open.

Lit by only the dim artificial lights outside, Angel loomed in the doorway with a scowl and crossed arms. 

TBC. . . What will Angel have to say about seeing Buffy and Spike in bed together? What will happen with the human boy and woman they've "rescued"? Next chapter, the three head into the city and run into someone they know. 

I promise that the plot will be furthered more in the next chapter! :o)

THANKS tons for the kind reviews and feedback! Knowing that you are enjoying and reading keeps me writing and thinking of new plot twists for you! Also, the person that reviewed and asked for Buffy to be broken up with her boyfriend. . . you got your wish! When I read your review, I'd already written that part of the chapter and knew you'd be pleased! Good call!


	6. Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates! I've been working two jobs and had no time to write! Plus, these two chapters were critical for setting up the plot for future twists and turns, so they took a bit longer than the initial chapters! Thus, there are two chapters for you guys! Hope you enjoy and haven't given up on me! *hugs*  
  
Chapter 5  
  
Buffy Summers rarely felt naked.  
  
Well, except for when she was literally naked for regular bathing or occasional skinny-dipping, but she rarely felt emotionally naked.  
  
And now was one of those infrequent moments.  
  
Thankfully, she wasn't the only one who was facing down her ex-lover's glare. She swore that if she could bottle that expression, she could make millions.  
  
She already knew what the label would read, "Bottled glare. For use on unreasonable parents, people who talk on cell phones during the crucial scenes at the movies, dentists who clean your teeth too roughly, and ex- boyfriends who catch you in bed with their relative. Use only as directed. May want to consult a physician before use due to adverse side effect of marring face permanently and rendering smiles useless."  
  
In a totally inappropriate laugh for the situation, a giggle bubbled forth before she could stop it.  
  
Angel frowned harder. "What's so funny, Buffy?"  
  
Buffy eyes fluttered to Spike's for a moment, and she saw that his visage was a blank slate. She wondered for the thousandth time what he was thinking. Her own thoughts flashed to the time Riley had caught them together. His reaction was quite the opposite from when he'd thrown their "relationship" in Riley's face.  
  
She also pondered what kind of relationship he'd developed with Angel after working with him for three years. Was it a good one built on mutual respect and understanding, or was their relationship tainted by past resentments and jealousy? Based on what she had seen so far, she decided on a mix of the two.  
  
She removed her hand from where it had settled on Spike's chest upon Angel's intrusion. "Nothing," she replied softly.  
  
Angel blazed onward, "Well, while you two were busy snuggling, the boy, whom you rescued, unlatched the door and left."  
  
"What?" Buffy sat up from where she'd frozen. The pallet was indeed empty. "Damn it!"  
  
Rumpled clothing or no, she tugged on her shoes and charged out the door with Spike hot on her heels. The three searched the hotel grounds, using their enhanced senses to do a thorough scan. Mary, the woman Angel had found in his closet, followed them like a zombie, probably still in shock from the abuse she'd endured.  
  
After several minutes of finding no trace of the young boy, Buffy gave up and sagged against the side of the building in defeat.  
  
"Buffy," Angel began, using her real name yet again, "there's nothing we can do. He's gone. If he's self-sufficient enough to get out of the room and get this far away without being killed, he's probably capable of surviving out there."  
  
Buffy looked up with tears in her eyes. "But for how long? I mean, he's a little boy."  
  
"I don't know." Angel touched her shoulder gently. "But we can't linger here too long, or vamps will start asking questions." He tilted his head slightly to the left.  
  
Buffy spied three vampires lounging in the shadows, staring at them oddly. Her eyebrows lifted. "Right." Wiping the water away, Buffy fixed her eyes on Spike's blue ones. "I guess we better get ready to go into the city."  
  
Angel went to Mary who was hanging a bit apart from them, staring off into the darkness with her arms around her ribcage like she was lost and cold. She gazed up at Angel with big eyes as he bent to whisper something to her in a voice so low that vampire hearing couldn't pick it up. Then, Angel began dragging her roughly toward Buffy and Spike's room. Buffy could tell he wasn't really trying to hurt her, but he had to put on a nice show for their onlookers.  
  
Buffy turned to Spike. Tears consumed her vision for a third time that day. "It's all my fault."  
  
Spike assumed a position next to her as she walked slowly back toward their room. "If it's anybody's fault, it's mine as much as yours, pet." Buffy waited for him to continue. "And anyway, I tend to agree with Angel. We're stuck in these roles in this environment. Looks like to some extent, we'll have to play by the rules here even if it means doing. . . or not doing. . . some things that make us feel uncomfortable."  
  
"I guess." Buffy was not used to having to play by anyone else's rules, and to some extent, neither were Angel and Spike.  
  
Spike echoed her thoughts in a half-growl, "Hopefully, not for very long."  
  
Buffy glimpsed yellow eyes surrounding them. "Hopefully not."  
  
* * *  
  
The city was less remarkable than Buffy imagined it would be. For the most part, the streets were well lit by streetlamps and were designed to be fairly similar to most large American cities. On the other hand, she had sort of expected that the streets might be a chaotic mess. . . rather like a city with multiple riots going on at the same time.  
  
The only unusual aspects of the city were the continual darkness, the faint scent of blood that clung like static electricity to the air, the lack of motor vehicles in the streets, and the plethora of vampires that lined the sidewalks. Some were well dressed; others were not. Some wore their game faces; others did not. The well-dressed vamps generally wore their human masks. But even with the apparent differences in class, their expressions were surprisingly similar. The determination in their eyes was almost palpable. Their odd semblance of purpose disconcerted Buffy.  
  
When they passed the first small cluster of vampires, she held her breath and prayed silently that they wouldn't see her soul, shining out like a beacon. Fred had reassured them that only the oldest and more experienced vampires would be able to view or sense the souls beneath their disguises.  
  
What else had she said?  
  
Oh, yes. Fred had informed her that to throw the older vampires off, she, Spike, and Angel would merely have to avoid eye contact with them as much as possible and that they'd be able to sense when they were in the presence of someone who might be dangerous to them.  
  
Buffy didn't sense anything out of the group passing them, but she averted her eyes anyway and shivered almost imperceptibly. She and Spike were in front of Angel and Mary, and she noted that Spike almost protectively moved to the opposite side of her after they passed the vampires.  
  
Annoyance stirred within her, and before she could contain herself, she shot him a look. She would have put up with such old-fashioned shielding behavior from Riley but not Spike. She was especially bothered after his casual behavior toward her earlier. . . as if they hadn't had an intimate talk in the motel room. Her thoughts and feelings weren't resolved, and while she was usually good at pushing aside her feelings where a mission was concerned, she was having trouble now.  
  
Spike returned her glare but maintained his position as the next group approached.  
  
Buffy bit her lip as they continued to meander through the crowd. She was highly tempted to lash back at him, and the feeling frightened her for a reason she couldn't quite put into words. Her irritation with him increased, and she involuntarily crossed her arms.  
  
He bent to her ear when they reached a spot with few vampires nearby. In a low tone, he whispered, "It's the way of things with vamps. With you walking on the outside, they had every right to pull you away from us and claim you."  
  
Buffy felt a pout coming on. "And you thought I couldn't take care of myself?" She knew her volume was a bit loud, but she didn't care.  
  
Angel chose that moment to add his two cents, "Spike did the right thing. We can't afford to draw too much attention to ourselves."  
  
"Right. Like we already aren't drawing too much attention with some human we picked up out of a closet in a motel room and. . ." She waved a hand at their bodies. "Our clothes. Geez."  
  
"What's wrong with our clothes?" Angel asked unknowingly, glancing down at his leather pants, black shirt and leather duster.  
  
Frowning, Spike glanced at his similarly dressed form and then at the coming group of vamps. "I think she's right, mate. The trend seems to involve more color." He forcibly snagged the deep burgundy-colored sleeve of one of the passing vampires who hardly looked surprised and ducked his head toward his chest to avoid Spike's eyes. "Tell me where to get new clothes."  
  
Buffy restrained a laugh. She would never have thought to hear Spike demanding to know where he could find a clothing store. And he was right. The vampires did seem to be shying away from black. . . even if the colors were muted.  
  
The other vampires in their captive's group kept walking, leaving him behind. Wordlessly, he raised his arm and pointed toward a door across the street. Nothing marked the door to indicate it sold clothing, but nothing seemed to be well marked around the city.  
  
Spike nodded and released the vampire. "Thanks," he muttered gruffly, and the vampire kept moving as if nothing had happened.  
  
"So let's get some new clothes," Buffy said brightly. "Mary definitely needs something new." The prospect of new clothes never failed to bring a bounce to her step. And she led the way across the street.  
  
Angel and Spike trailed behind her with Angel tugging a reluctant Mary by the elbow. For some reason, she did not want to follow Buffy.  
  
Buffy shoved the door open with authority, and she noted that it was made of metal, not wood, as it thudded heavily against the wall. Surveying the room with her well-used Slayer instincts, she saw racks and racks of clothing arranged by color. The shop was small with mirrors on the side walls to make it look larger. She thought it was ironic that there would be mirrors on the walls given that vampires cast no reflection, but she guessed that what was important was the shop's display of unexpectedly inoffensive product. A small table in the back seemed to be the hub of purchasing. Buffy glimpsed a small row of dressing rooms through the open doorway adjacent to the table.  
  
No vampires were in sight.  
  
"Huh." Buffy planted her hands on her hips. "No one's around. Strange."  
  
"No rhyme or reason to a shop run by a vampire, pet," Spike informed at her side.  
  
"Well, some vampires," Angel added. "Some don't have a clue when it comes to retail. I wonder why that is." His last sentence was sarcastic and not meant to be a question.  
  
Buffy hadn't heard Angel because she had busily moved on to rummaging through the racks of dark green clothing. She held up a purposefully torn tank top and green denim jeans embroidered with tiny metal rings up and down each leg. "Think these would bring out my eyes?" She batted her emerald eyes playfully.  
  
Neither Spike nor Angel smiled.  
  
"Let's just get something and get out of here," Spike said as Buffy brought an outfit to Mary, holding it up to the bewildered woman's body to see if it might fit.  
  
"Should we get something of quality?" Buffy asked, hurrying to a rack of female clothing that resembled the type worn by the "upper class" vampires they'd seen. "We might have more authority that way."  
  
"Good idea," Angel assented, plunging into the dark blue clothes in search of something that would fit his large stature.  
  
Shrugging, Spike joined them, choosing to look at the colors closest to red. He'd always been partial to red.  
  
Poor Mary hung back with her head bowed. Suddenly, she lifted it with a sharp intake of air. Her companions' heads shot up simultaneously.  
  
There was a new vampire in their midst.  
  
Buffy's eyes widened.  
  
Angel scowled, and Spike smirked.  
  
"Well, well, well. Lookie who wandered into my little shop," Harmony quipped with false honey lacing her tone. She was dressed in black from head to toe, and she flicked her long blonde ponytail over one shoulder. "A whole crew of wannabe vampires."  
  
Spike immediately launched into an explanation, smoothly donning a confidence that reminded Buffy of the days when he had no soul and no chip. "Harm. Haven't seen you lately. You running this little establishment? Very quaint."  
  
Harmony jabbed a finger at him, poking him in the chest. Buffy was surprised at her show of self-assurance. "*You* don't fool me, mister. I know all about your little soul. . . and Angel's obviously." She narrowed her eyes at Buffy. "And you're still hanging out the *her*? Honestly, Spike, I would have thought you'd have better taste."  
  
Moving from in front of Spike, Harmony began circling Buffy, and Buffy felt her muscles tense with the desire to lash out. "You vamped her?" She frowned with faint confusion typical of her high school days. "That doesn't sound like something you guys would do."  
  
Harmony's eyes lit on the cowering form of the only human in the room. "And why have you stolen one of Kooch's humans?"  
  
"How do you know. . .?" Angel began.  
  
Harmony pouted and traced a line over Mary's cheek so that she shuddered. "It's obvious. Any moron could read that she's Kooch's. Just look at the arrangement of the bite marks on her cheek." Then, she whirled on Spike. "You guys are on some kind of covert mission, aren't you?" She nodded at Buffy while keeping her eyes on her ex-lover. "And I bet that you haven't vamped her. I bet it's some kind of elaborate disguise!"  
  
Harmony lunged at Buffy as if doing so would prove her point. Spike's reaction was swift as he flung her back against a fixture of clothing. "Look. You really want to take all three of us on?"  
  
Rubbing her arm where Spike's fingers had been, Harmony glowered up at him from where she was leaning against the clothing. "I *knew* it," she accused, tears welling in her eyes. "You're undercover. I'm not stupid, you know. And I'm sure you know that you won't get away with whatever you're doing. Let me guess, you're here to stop the city from shifting into your dimension. You *definitely* won't have any say in that."  
  
Spike played into her desire to show off her knowledge of the vampire city of which they knew little. "And why not?"  
  
"Because you're dressed like the leading factions and you're obviously not part of them. You *can't* wear black if you're not a member of the inner core. And you can't just cart around a stolen human like it's yours. And everyone who knows you would obviously know you have a soul. And *duh*, everyone knows who Buffy is."  
  
Buffy, Angel, and Spike exchanged knowing looks.  
  
Spike took the reins again, "And you're wearing black because. . .?"  
  
Harmony lifted her chin slightly. "Because I'm someone *important* here unlike you."  
  
With a predatory grin, Spike advanced on her. "And you're going to help us."  
  
Taken aback, Harmony panicked. "What? No, I'm not."  
  
"*Yes,* you are." He gripped her arm again.  
  
She jerked away, her bottom lip quivering. "And why should I? I have it good here. . . better than I ever had it with you. I'm dating someone who cares about me. I have my own shop. I have access to the best hunting grounds and an unlimited account at the drive through blood bank. . . ."  
  
"You'll help us if you want to live," Spike said quietly. "You'll tell us what we need to know."  
  
Tears flowed over Harmony's heavily made-up cheeks. "If you ruin this for me. . . ."  
  
"I could tell everyone about a certain poker game. . . ." Spike remained unsympathetic, and Buffy quelled the empathy she was beginning to feel for Harmony, who was quite obviously still the lost little girl she'd known in high school.  
  
Harmony's eyes grew to give her a naïve appearance. "You *wouldn't*!"  
  
Spike had her. "I *would*."  
  
Buffy gave Angel a confused look, and he shrugged. Neither of them had heard that story, but it likely wasn't something very positive for Harmony.  
  
Before Harmony could respond with anything more than a glare, the door to the shop slammed ajar. Two-dozen vampires dressed in black streamed into the store, sending metal fixtures and clothes flying across the room. Undistracted, the attackers used long knives to slice through cloth and hammers to smash and bend metal.  
  
Harmony attempted to spring forward, but Spike kept a steady hand on her arm. All they could do was watch as the vagrant vampires set fires in the dressing rooms, and within a handful of seconds, the shop was completely destroyed. As flames and smoke threatened to advance, the vampires turned to Harmony and her unwitting companions.  
  
The vampire closest to Harmony stepped toward her, brandishing a stake. Eyes glowing golden to match the yellow bandana above his ridges, he growled, "Consider this a warning from Her Eminence to the one you follow. Stay out of our business, or next time, you'll wind up at the end of something wooden."  
  
The vampires flowed out of the shop as quickly as they entered. Without the destruction around them, it would have almost been like they had never been present. Although the fire and smoke continued to grow, they were partially stopped by a wall of mounded clothing. Whoever they were, they didn't want Harmony dead.  
  
With a soft sob, Harmony collapsed the ground and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with her cries.  
  
Spike knelt beside her and touched her back gently, and Buffy felt a seed of jealousy spring to life at the gentleness he was showing his ex- lover. "Who are they?"  
  
Harmony raised her head with a grim visage. "They're members of the other faction. They want to move the city into the light."  
  
"And whom do you follow?"  
  
"Someone who doesn't want *that* to happen." Harmony wiped her tears away and gazed around her ruined store. "My shop," she wailed. "It was all mine to do as I pleased. . .t-the first time I ever owned anything successful. And now it's *ruined!*"  
  
Footsteps of multiple vampires resounded on the pavement outside. Five vampires ran through the door. Their leader was dressed in black, but the other four were in various colors.  
  
And their leader was Michael.  
  
Concern was etched onto his face. "Harmony, are you all right?"  
  
She smiled up at him through her tears, and their exchange caused Spike to rejoin Buffy and Angel. "Y-yeah. It was *her* men again. Why do they keep destroying everything I love?"  
  
Michael went to her immediately and drew her close, smoothing her hair with one hand. Buffy filed that interesting exchange in her mind for later pondering and glanced to see Spike's decidedly neutral face, watching them intently. The jealousy in her heart sprouted an extra vine. "They're trying to get to us. . . to Stephan."  
  
Harmony's sobs came louder. "B-but I worked hard to keep them from doing it this time. I didn't even put a sign up. How did they know where I was?"  
  
"I don't know, baby." Michael noticed Angel, Buffy, Spike, and Mary as if for the first time. He consciously drew back from Harmony. "Well, look who we have here." He smiled, revealing pointed teeth. "Let's see if I remember your names. . . ."  
  
"Liz, Will, and Andy," Buffy interjected quickly.  
  
Harmony stared at her with her mouth open and seemed to be trying to decide whether or not to correct her. Spike shot her a reminder frown, and she directly shut her mouth.  
  
Michael laughed. "Changed your names, I see. They definitely suit you better." Putting his arm around Harmony's shoulders, he hugged her close. "Thank you for making sure my girl stayed safe."  
  
"But they. . . ," Harmony began.  
  
Spike interrupted, "Michael, what do you know about pok. . ."  
  
Harmony rushed to finish her sentence a different way, "Yes, they did. They saved me."  
  
Michael glanced uncertainly between Spike and Harmony, knowing that he missed something. Buffy could tell he knew something was up, and she felt certain that although he was not an old vampire, he had been sired by someone who was. Power rolled off his body. They would have to maintain close watch over him.  
  
As she surveyed Michael, Buffy sensed Spike's eyes on her. She smiled sweetly over her shoulder at him, but his emotions remained invisible to her.  
  
"They deserve a reward," Harmony babbled on, sliding her arm around Michael's waist.  
  
"Right," Michael agreed. "I should get you out of here. How about we all go somewhere a bit safer? Maybe get a bite to eat." He nodded at Mary who was half hiding behind Angel's tall form. "I see you snagged one of Kooch's."  
  
Angel took the cue to drag Mary up to him. "Meal on the go. Kooch shouldn't leave food lying around like that."  
  
Michael chuckled. "Agreed." He swept his hand toward the open door. "Shall we?"  
  
Clearing her throat, Harmony spoke up, "Shouldn't they change colors first?"  
  
For the first time, Michael was patronizing with her, "Harm. *Think* about it. The clothes are ruined. They'll be fine until we get somewhere safe."  
  
Ashamed, Harmony ducked her head at the reprimand.  
  
Buffy was attuned to Spike's muscles tightening next to her. He didn't like that any other male would treat Harmony with any semblance of disrespect, and Buffy wasn't sure what to make of that. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6  
  
Spike's first impression of the vampire leaning over the rail was that he was old. . .not as old as Angel or Spike, but he'd been a member of the undead for a long while.  
  
The vampire was likely turned when he was slightly younger than Michael, but despite his youthful appearance, he was experienced. . . he'd killed. . . he knew the rules of survival.  
  
Experience alone did not make a good leader.  
  
His skin had probably been fair even when he was alive, his build and height were average, and his dark hair was a tousled mop as if he'd tumbled out of bed and forgotten to comb it. He wore black; however, it wasn't leather or tailored. Instead, he wore black jeans and a cotton shirt that was un-tucked and slightly askew.  
  
From a distance, Spike would not have pegged him as someone who took charge. However, judging from the silent entourage in the shadows, the vampire commanded respect.  
  
The vampire kept his attention on the monitors before him as Spike and the others clustered behind him. Although he appeared nonchalant, his voice was deep and energized, "Michael, you've brought visitors."  
  
Michael removed Harmony's hand from his arm and joined the vampire at the rail. "I have. They are new to the city."  
  
"New? They've never been here?" The vampire afforded them a glimpse of dark brown eyes. Spike averted his gaze and hoped the vampire took it as a sign of deference.  
  
"No, they haven't. They're the ones from last night. . . the ones who were with me when the kranooks were after me," Michael explained. "And today, they saved Harmony's life."  
  
Buffy's arm brushed Spike's, and he was forced to work hard to hold back any display of emotion. Very carefully, he leaned the other direction, pretending to be entranced by something on one of the monitors. Truth be told, he couldn't make out a thing on them.  
  
"Ah. I'd heard about them." The vampire leader half-turned, and force radiated from him. His eyes locked on Buffy who Spike could see was bowing her head out of false modesty. "You. What's your name?"  
  
In an excellent imitation of Tara's shyness, Buffy peeked up briefly as if hiding behind her hair. "Liz," she replied a bit too confidently. So much for her pretense of timidity.  
  
"Liz. Come here." He gestured for her to come forward. Buffy obediently joined him, moving awkwardly in the too tight green leather pants that Harmony had given her.  
  
Although the vampire didn't touch her, he was attracted to her, and Spike didn't like it. Angel didn't either because he emitted a quiet sound that only Spike recognized as a sign of displeasure. At least, they were united on that point.  
  
As a matter of fact, Spike was quite amazed that he and Angel had tolerated each other so well in the last three years. After Spike had physically recovered enough from his sacrifice in Sunnydale and his subsequent transformation, they had had one scuffle from which Angel had emerged as the victor since Spike no longer had the speed or strength of a vampire.  
  
He couldn't even recall what the fight had been about now. Most likely, it had been about Buffy.  
  
It was always about Buffy.  
  
Spike resumed his attention on the conversation between the vampire leader and Buffy. He thought he might have caught the vampire introducing himself as Stephan.  
  
"And see here," Stephan pointed at one of the monitors. When he pointed, the rest went dark. "That is one of our most popular hunts. It's a series or tournament, you see, kind of like baseball or golf. We send our best hunters into a vampire-constructed forest and let loose one human, preferably one with brains, skill, and strength. Whoever captures the human first wins the round and advances to the next one. With each round, the quality of the vampire hunters and the human prey improves until we reach the final round, which is our championship. The winner walks away with a lifetime supply of blood and a penthouse apartment in a safe part of the city."  
  
Spike squinted at the monitor Stephan had pointed to. From Spike's vantage point, nothing was visible except trees, and inanely, Spike wondered how trees grew in a place with no sunlight.  
  
For a moment, Spike let his jealousy regarding Buffy shine through, interrupting Stephan, "So, it's more like a fox hunt, then?"  
  
Unruffled, Stephan turned briefly and winked at Spike. "Right."  
  
He motioned the others forward. Only Spike boldly advanced. Angel hung back with Mary, and Michael and Harmony seemed to have disappeared.  
  
Stephan continued, "Except the vamps in this tournament are a little bit more ruthless than hunters of old. . . although. . . I really have no idea about the past. Perhaps the humans in a fox hunt played more tricks on one another than I know. Anyway, the vamps will often set traps for one another. They've gotten into some pretty bloody scrapes, and often, there're quite a few dustings along the way."  
  
"Wow," Buffy breathed, successfully holding back her desire to be sarcastic.  
  
"Wow is right, and that is only one of the marvels of this 'world' we vampires have made for ourselves. You'll learn more about this tomorrow when Michelle and I have time to show you what we have to offer. My plan, Liz, Will, and Andy, is to convince you that our city should not be moved into the other dimension."  
  
"Right. Well, we sort of already agree," Buffy said before she could stop herself.  
  
Moving back from the rail, Stephan was bemused. "Still. I want to make sure of that."  
  
Buffy fidgeted, and Spike could tell that she was antsy for information. "What are the kranooks besides something reptilian and very scary?"  
  
A grin spread across Stephan's face. "Getting straight to your questions. I like that."  
  
Returning his grin, Buffy stated, "I have a lot of them."  
  
"Good. Let's walk, shall we?" He started toward a door opposite from where they'd come into the room.  
  
In silent agreement to let Buffy ask the questions, Spike and Angel followed them. Spike was distinctly aware of the presence of at least eight vampires bringing up the rear. The building, which was magically hidden behind a vampire brothel, was definitely secure.  
  
"So, you want to know about the kranooks?" Stephan asked, politely keeping a safe distance from Buffy as he led them through a maze of dimly lit but clean smelling hallways that were lined with a multitude of closed doors. Spike could hear noises coming from behind some of them.  
  
"Right," Buffy said with a bit too much spunk for Spike's taste.  
  
"Well, in order to explain about that properly, I'll need to explain something else first." Stephan pushed open one of the doors to reveal a small library of books. Stuffed chairs were situated around a small table, which was stacked high with leather-bound volumes that someone had been perusing earlier.  
  
Going to a dispenser on the left, Stephan poured himself a mug of steaming blood. He raised the glass at Angel, Spike and Buffy. "Blood?" When they all declined, he took a small sip and made a face when he burned his tongue. "I like mine really hot. Sometimes it gets me in trouble."  
  
Once he had them settled around the small table, including Mary, he launched into his tale, "So, you've probably heard about there being two factions: one for the emergence of the city into the world of humans and one against it. One is obviously headed by me. The other is headed by my twin sister, Stephanie."  
  
"The Gemela Prophecy!" Angel burst out, sitting forward with interest. Spike and Buffy stared at him as if he had three heads, and Spike decided that the information must have been in the thick mission packet he hadn't bothered to read because he'd been to upset.  
  
Stephan nodded. "You're up on your prophecies."  
  
Emboldened, Angel launched onward, "Well, what can I say? I work with an evil l. . ." Buffy and Spike gave him a dirty look, and he switched his words, "library. I'm a. . . librarian at a, uh, . . . demon library."  
  
Stephan didn't even flinch, "You'd be surprised, but some demons are interested in education."  
  
"Right," Spike acknowledged. He'd read a book or two in his time despite his attempts to feign disinterest.  
  
"And the prophecy of the twins coming to power in the vampire world has now, for the record, come to pass. My twin sister, Stephanie, is one leader in Vampire Villa."  
  
Buffy spoke her thoughts aloud, "And she's the leader of the other faction."  
  
"She is." Stephan paused to take a sip of blood.  
  
Inwardly, Spike found that he was feeling slightly annoyed at the vampire leader's need to play the dramatic storyteller. On the other hand, Stephan might still have residual feelings for his sister; Spike had had them for his own relatives when he'd been a soulless vampire.  
  
A little too eagerly, Buffy asked, "So, did you have a falling out with her over the whole issue of bringing the city into the human world?"  
  
Spike fought the urge to nudge her foot with his. She better watch herself, or she would end up giving them away.  
  
Stephan grinned over the edge of his mug. "Yes. I did. It's an old sibling rivalry, if you will. Even as children, we fought over the minutest things, and on almost any subject, our opinions were opposite. Our temperaments were and are very different. I'm fairly laid back, and Stephanie. . . well, let's just say, she's not."  
  
Apparently, Angel was as impatient as Spike although he didn't show it outwardly. "So, how did you rise to power in Vampire Villa?"  
  
Chuckling, Stephan admitted, "It seems that your simplest questions have such complicated answers. You see, despite what may seem apparent to you since you've come to Vampire Villa, most vampires aren't aware of the pervasiveness of the factions in their world. Some may even think the factions don't exist or dismiss their existence as the product of rumors.  
  
"Stephanie and I were among the initial founders of Vampire Villa when the Slayers began to proliferate and eradicate thousands of vampires in the human dimension. Through an ancient text found at the remains of the Watchers Council, we managed to find a way to cut holes in dimensional walls, and after much experimentation, we found a pocket of darkness between dimensions. . . a place where we could build a safe haven for our kind.  
  
"From the city's inception, Stephanie and I realized that vampires would not take kindly to being 'ruled' by vampires with our strength and power. There would be too much fighting for power. So, we decided to put in place a set of vampires who believed they were in charge. . . vampires who would be respected and followed by other vampires.  
  
Spike found himself fidgeting. He wanted to do something besides listen to Stephan prattle.  
  
Stephan didn't stop though, "Each time Stephanie or I discovered a cluster of vampires living in the human dimension, we handpicked the vampire leaders to take a position of authority within the growing city we were forming. With magic, we were able to lead those vampires to believe that they were coming to power through their natural, innate talents. We chose leaders that were experts across multiple areas of art and science. They were and are acquainted with us, but they don't recognize us as having any power over them."  
  
Stephan paused to drink deeply from his cup, allowing Buffy to ask a question, "So, how did you have any influence over what they did? It seems like it might have led to chaos, having all those different leaders with differing ideas about what was best for the city."  
  
"Excellent point, my dear. That's why Stephanie and I led from behind the scenes. We wanted to make sure that things ran smoothly and to our liking. We accomplished it mob style. We made sure that we sired enough vamps to fill key positions and to support our endeavors with force if need be. . . all very discretely, of course. The local leaders we hand picked were soon and continue to be merely figureheads. They lead the teams that helped build the structures around the city and make some decisions, but Stephanie's or my influence touches most everything you see within the city limits. Most vampires in the city had, and still have, no awareness of the breadth of our authority. . . if they are even aware of us at all.  
  
"For example, today's attack on Harmony's shop was no coincidence. Stephanie takes every chance she can to try and get to me. I think it's because she's aware that something big is about to go down. In any case, today's attack will hardly be a blip on the radar. The city news won't report it, or if they do report it, it will be cited as an accident with the wiring or some such nonsense."  
  
"Where do the kranooks come into play?" Angel injected.  
  
"Ah. The kranooks. I think a better question to answer first would be how Stephanie and I parted ways. Then, I think your other question will be answered." Stephan sniffed the empty mug and set it aside with a bit of disgruntlement on his face. "About a year after the inception of the city, Stephanie got the idea in her head that she wanted to eventually move the city back to the human dimension. I didn't quite understand it because we had the perfect set up. The sun never shone, the system of leading through figureheads was running smoothly, and we had all the blood we needed. It was like a miniature hell without the fire, brimstone, and endless torture." With that comment, a faraway expression of peace lit Stephan's face.  
  
"She missed human civilization? The 'happy meals on legs' or something to that effect?" Buffy suggested, ignoring Spike's pointed glance her way. He knew she was referring to a time when he'd helped her stop Angelus from bringing hell to earth. Spike doubted that Angel even knew that part of the reason why he'd aided Buffy.  
  
Stephan looked startled by this. "Perhaps. . . perhaps she was homesick. I disagreed with her reasoning. But despite that, she began researching a way to magically transfer the entire city to the United States. When I reminded her that the city would be vulnerable to attack by the Slayers, she became obsessed with trying to find a way to protect the city. One avenue she explored was genetics. . . mixed with magic."  
  
"Hence, the kranooks," Buffy noted with sarcasm.  
  
"Right. They're not a naturally occurring demon race. They were genetically and magically created."  
  
"As were most of the demon types on earth," Spike added, breaking his thoughtful silence and eliciting an elbow poke from Buffy and a look of annoyance from Stephan. He suppressed the urge to grin. What could he say? He liked to piss off authority figures.  
  
"I warned her that the violent temperament she gave the half-human, half-snake creatures would be uncontrollable. She didn't listen, and although the creatures listened to her, they didn't listen to anyone else, including me."  
  
Spike caught himself before he could mutter something rude about listening to Stephan under his breath.  
  
"So, being smart, they managed to escape into other dimensions. In our efforts to regain control over them and herd them back for destruction, we discovered a couple of things. One is that the kranooks couldn't survive too far from a source of magic; they need it to survive. So, they tended to gravitate toward pockets of magic in other dimensions. In your dimension, they couldn't travel too far from the edges of the entrances of the vampire city."  
  
"Even with the magic of the hellmouth and other similar locations?" Buffy asked, doing her best not to look at Stephan too intently.  
  
"Even with. None of the mystical areas were close enough to the vampire city with the exception of New Orleans," Stephan clarified.  
  
Buffy frowned slightly as if pondering something. Spike wondered if it had something to do with the recent mysterious disappearance of the Slayer stationed in New Orleans.  
  
Stephan was still talking, "We managed to recover most of the kranooks, but Stephanie insisted we leave the kranooks at the edges of the vampire city to protect the city. I didn't agree. I wanted to terminate the bizarre experiment before it got more out of hand. Our arguments about Stephanie's plans intensified over several weeks until we stopped talking to one another. Then, one day, a minor incident that's too irrelevant to discuss pushed her over, and she broke from me, taking several of the city leaders with her. Since then, she has continually tried to undermine me. For the most part, no one is aware of the feud with the exception of those I trust the most."  
  
Buffy chewed on her lower lip. "Why hasn't she sent the kranooks after you?"  
  
"She using them to guard something I need. . . something I used to have. She believes it is the key to making her plan come to pass."  
  
"The plan to bring the vampire city among the world of the living," Spike added.  
  
"Yes." Stephan nodded.  
  
"There's always a something. What is it?" Spike could tell Buffy was thinking hard, and he wondered if her thoughts were similar to his.  
  
Stephan was waiting for them to sort through the facts, and Spike didn't like it.  
  
"It's half a dimensional trigger. She only has half. With half, one can open temporary portals between the human dimension and the vampire city. However, the portals aren't stable enough to move whole cities across dimensions. Stephanie needs. . .wants both pieces. As do I."  
  
"And Michael has one piece," Buffy stated as she remembered that Michael had opened the portal between dimensions.  
  
"Stephanie and I each have a piece. We use them to cross dimensions to meet our needs. Michael was running an errand for me, and Stephanie found out about it. She sent the kranooks for him, and he barely escaped."  
  
"And you're telling us all this because?" Spike asked, not able to hide his impatience anymore.  
  
"Because," Stephan looked hard at each one of them with an air of nonchalance, "I need your help, and. . . I know who all of you are." He paused as he waited for his statement to have an impact.  
  
They rose as one as if they'd fought together for ages. Spike felt the energy rolling through the three of them. It hummed through his veins, and he made a mental note of it. He was ready for a fight despite the overwhelming odds against them.  
  
Stephan regarded the three thoughtfully and smiled as several vampires emerged from the shadows. One of the vampires plucked a terrified Mary from her seat.  
  
"Hey," Angel snarled, shifting into vampire face.  
  
"Don't worry. Your human isn't going anywhere, but then, again, neither are you," Stephan said calmly. "You're well within the midst of our city. Even if you got out of the building, the city works for me. . . well, half of it does anyway. You'd be stopped before you made it past the first block, and no one would be the wiser."  
  
"How did you know it was us?" Buffy demanded, holding up a stake that she'd managed to conceal quite invisibly on her person.  
  
"Did *Harmony* tell you?" Spike growled, not for the first time thinking very vile thoughts about his ex and shifting his eyes to search the room for a weapon. He settled on the coffee pot.  
  
"Harmony didn't tell me anything. I read the prophecies. I knew long before you got here. . . that a Slayer and two vampires with souls. . ."  
  
"Make that *one*. . . *one* vampire with a soul," Angel insisted.  
  
Stephan rolled his eyes, and Spike felt a minute bit of respect for the vampire. "*One* vampire with a soul. I knew who you were as soon as you set foot in the city. No other vampire knows. . . except perhaps Stephanie. Not even Michael has a clue. Harmony is a simpleton. . . sweet but not too bright. She's around because she knows you and because Michael seems to have taken a shine to her. You might ask how I know about you. . . ."  
  
"You read the prophecy," Buffy said, and Spike swore he could see the soul shining out from her eyes. "Big whoop, you can read."  
  
"And you probably think I want to get rid of you before the prophecy can come to pass. . . before you can decimate the city." Stephan motioned for the vampires behind him. "And you would be wrong. I don't want to kill you. . . . or even to stop the prophecy. . . at least, not yet. You, Buffy, have a history of thwarting prophecy. I'm banking on it. I want to stop my sister. If she brings the city to fruition in the human world, vampires will cease to experience the prosperity they've enjoyed."  
  
"And we *couldn't* have *that.*" Buffy's words were biting. "There's a hidden agenda in there for you, mister."  
  
"Of course, I would lose power if the city was brought into the light. But I'm also about bringing the spark of humanity back into the vampire community."  
  
Spike snorted; Stephan sounded like a very bad campaign ad. "That'll be the day."  
  
Stephan ignored him. "You haven't seen what I've done with the city. Before you decide. . . well, you really have no choice. . . I want you to see the plans I have. I've made great steps in improving the way our kind lives."  
  
"And what are you planning on having us do?" Buffy asked.  
  
Walking to the door, Stephan swung it open and grinned. "I'll explain after the remainder of the tour."  
  
More revelations next chapter and some insight into what's going on in Buffy's mind regarding Spike and Angel! ;o) Stay tuned! 


	8. Chapter 7

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 7_**

"So, when are you going to tell us about Harmony and a certain poker game?" Buffy casually asked Spike while swinging her legs over the edge of her bed. They were her first words since being in the room Stephan provided for their housing. At first, the trio had sat in shocked silence, and now Buffy was breaking the ice with an attempt at Xander-esque lightness in the face of emotional overload.

Seated on the floor, Spike followed her lead and raised an eyebrow at her with a smirk. "All we've seen, and you want to discuss something that happened eons ago?" 

"Yeah, well, I don't want to talk about all that crap while I'm eating dinner." Buffy's food remained untouched on her lap. Truth be told, she wasn't the least bit hungry, but she felt the need to change the subject from the horrors they'd all witnessed. 

Seated next to her on the bed, Angel regarded her thoughtfully. "I think we should save storytelling for later. We really need to discuss what's going to happen next. . . what we're going to do."

Reminiscent of her feistiness in high school, Buffy pouted. "Fine. I just thought we'd have a nice meal."

"You're not eating anything," Spike pointed out as he bit into his snack of crackers and cheese.

Buffy shrugged. "So?"

"Eat, Buffy," Angel commanded. 

"You're not the boss of me. Besides nothing seems appetizing now. Not after. . ."

Angel sighed and looked down at his untouched blood bag. "I know."

Spike stopped mid-chew, catching Angel and Buffy staring at him meaningfully. "What? I can eat anytime. . . no matter what. Like you said, gotta keep up my strength. Eat, sleep. . . it'll all seem better in the morning."

Buffy shivered. "I don't know if it will."

To the casual observer, Spike might seem callous and cold, but Buffy knew better. She'd seen his initial horrified reaction to what they'd been shown, and she'd also seen him tuck it away so that his thoughts and feelings were impenetrable. 

Spike was doing that a lot lately, and she wished she understood. She wasn't sure why he was doing it, but she was sure of one thing: the truth would come out eventually. And she was going to make certain she was present when that happened. Something tugged in her heart, but she dismissed the feeling.

"So, what did we see?" Buffy set aside her meal and dug in her pack for the tiny palm computer that Fred had supplied them to communicate their findings. Although they couldn't directly contact the team at Wolfram and Hart due to the shift in dimensions, they were expected to record things on the device for perusal later. 

"Right. Let's catalog it." Spike popped the last of his meal in his mouth and moved next to Buffy on the bed. 

Buffy's nose picked up his familiar scent and was disconcerted that it mingled with Angel's. Was this how Oz felt with his wolf-y senses? She shook her head. Because she had become used to her enhanced senses, she hardly noticed them until particular moments. And how surreal was it to be sitting between two ex-boyfriends? Even though they'd been together for several days, she was still blown away with the thoughts and feelings that accompanied their presence.

"Buffy? You going to type that in or not?" Spike asked. 

"Oh, what?" Angel and Spike were staring at her. . . brown and blue shone into her mind. She glanced down at the computer screen at a loss. "Right. What should I put? What did Michelle call it?" Buffy asked, chewing on the end of the stylus. 

"Roxy," Spike corrected.

Buffy frowned and tapped her lips with the tiny stick. "What?" 

"Michelle prefers Roxy."

Angel crossed his arms. "I hardly think that matters, Spike. And she called it the 'Vampire Domestication Project.'"

"It matters to Roxy."

Buffy chose to ignore Spike's mutterings. "Vampire *Domestication* Project. That's a laugh. Don't think you can count euthanasia and putting people in comas as 'domestication.'"

Led by Stephan and Roxy, the trio had toured Stephan's domain for several hours. The two elements that stood out the most were the human "hospital" and the central bloody supply. The hospital was filled with humans who weren't aware that they were in a facility run by vampires. The humans had either been charmed or were so ill that they weren't able to tell or care that their "doctor's" hands were cold, that mysterious deaths by neck wounds often occurred, and that there wasn't a place to eat in the facility. 

Actual physicians who had been turned by Stephan's team ran the pseudo-hospital. Each and every human in the "hospital" was mortally ill with some disease or another. Stephan's team of physicians had found a way to remove the negative effects of disease from the humans' blood. The blood cleansing didn't cure the humans, but it served a purpose for the vampires: it allowed them to eat the humans. 

On the tour, Stephan had framed the situation to mean that his "hospital" allowed humans struck by mortal illness to die with increased dignity and decreased emotional and physical pain. The staff even went so far as to return the bodies to the families and arrange memorial services in the neighboring dimension. 

The second element that shocked Buffy, Spike, and Angel was the central blood supply facility. Buffy wasn't sure if it was more or less awful than the "hospital." The facility or C.B.S. was where they'd lost Mary, and that was what disturbed Buffy the most. The C.B.S. was a warehouse of sorts that supplied blood to the citizens of Vampire Villa. . . or at least, Stephan's portion of the city. 

The C.B.S. crew managed thousands of human bodies. . . living human bodies. In a Matrix-like fashion, the humans were piled on top of one another, each hooked up to an individual monitoring and blood withdrawal system. Each was in a coma-like state so that they were not aware of their surroundings. 

Designated sections of humans gave blood on certain days. This was done in a rotating cycle so that no individual human was completely drained and had time to replenish his or her resources before the next round was taken. The retrieved blood was pumped to a filtration system and then channeled throughout the city, so vampires could have hot and cold running blood. There were even blood banks where vampires could deposit and withdraw blood.

Although Buffy was inclined not to believe him, Stephan had reassured them that the humans in the warehouse had all "chosen" to be part of the project. He'd continued his tale by saying that each human that was part of C.B.S. had been trying to escape some unhappy part of his or her life. They all had different reasons, but all were without hope. The assurance of coma-induced dreams was enough to make any number of people volunteer. 

Stephan had noted that vampires outside his portion of the city were less regulated about the way they handled their blood supply, which explained the humans in the closet at the motel. As Stephan was describing this problem, Mary had perked up, and when he had asked her if she wanted to be a "helper," she'd gladly accepted before Angel, Spike, or Buffy could stop her. Helpless to do anything to save Mary from her "chosen" fate, the three had watched the entire process of her induction into the C.B.S. 

After observing that particular atrocity, Buffy had run around the corner to dry heave. Being more attached to Mary than the rest of them, Angel hadn't been able to go after her, but Spike had been there, gentle hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. After she had ceased trembling, Spike had engulfed her hand in his and softly kissed her temple as he helped her to her feet. She and Spike had rejoined Stephan without fanfare, and the tour had continued.

Fred and the others were going to be floored by the truth about Stephan's portion of the city. 

"It seems to me that Stephan is going to great lengths to make sure that we approve of him and his little projects," Buffy observed. "There's something we're missing."

"I agree," Angel said, nodding. "He has presented us two vastly different stances. One, he doesn't want vampires. . . or his city. . . to be part of our dimension as Stephanie does because it would interfere with the vampire way of unlife they have here. On the other hand, he seems very concerned about what humans think of the city and 'his' vampire projects."

"He knows exactly what he's doing. He knew we would be horrified, but he also knew that of the two alternatives: city stay here or shift dimensions into the light, he would rather have the city stay put. Like he said, he'd lose power if Stephanie got her way. As far as what his other possible motives are, your guess is as good as mine, but vampires gathering this much power is not a good sign," Spike concluded, putting his usual dead-on spin on the issues.

"Right." Buffy sighed. "We just have to figure out a way to figure out what Stephan is really playing at, find the other piece of that dimensional key that he wants us to keep away from Stephanie, destroy the city and the kranooks, and save the humans trapped here." She inhaled. "Damn. That's a lot of stuff to accomplish with just the three of us surrounded by the enemy."

Buffy and her male companions discussed Stephan's plan to garner the other dimensional piece, alternative strategies, the prophecies, and the things they'd seen until Buffy's eyes began to drift shut. Despite protests, Angel ordered them to get some sleep. 

* * *

"Buffy, wake up!" the voice whispered urgently in her ear. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and gave her a small shake. 

Her green eyes flew open. "W-wha. . .?" she mumbled blearily. She was filled with an easy sense of safety when she saw the familiar soul peeking out from behind chocolate brown eyes. Large fingers brushed the tousled strands of her hair out of her face. Blinking deliberately, she struggled to separate dream from reality. 

"You were talking in your sleep," Angel murmured, pressing his forehead to hers. 

"I-I was?" Buffy tried to grasp the rapidly fading tendrils of her dream. . . a dream that brought her a great sense of peace in the moment but now. . . now, she wasn't so sure. "About what?" she asked even though she knew. She seemed to be dreaming a lot lately. 

"You were happy," he stated simply. He knew what she had been dreaming about. It was the same dream that he'd had on countless nights. . . their dream.

Buffy offered him a smile and pushed his chest gently, so she could have some space. "Then, why'd you wake me, silly?"

"Your volume was the problem." His eyes sparkled. "Don't want the wrong people to hear."

Turning her head quickly, Buffy breathed in relief. Spike was still asleep on the bed across the room. The emotion that rippled through her in that moment was different from what she had felt in her dream for. . . .

Angel's deep eyes captured hers again. How was it possible that she was always able to meet his eyes directly with no trepidation? And how many times had she asked herself this question with the inevitable companion question? 

If she was able to be utterly herself with this person before her. . . if she loved him so unabashedly, why wasn't she with him? Why hadn't she moved heaven and earth to be with him even if she had to sacrifice sharing his bed? What was holding her back? She wasn't the type to give up when she wanted something; she and Faith had had that much in common.

Somehow she knew the answer all these questions, but she wasn't able to admit it to herself. . . not yet. 

So, she spoke the only words she knew she could speak without consequences she wasn't quite ready to deal with yet, "Thank you."

Angel soft lips found her forehead. "You're welcome."

"You weren't sleeping?" she asked, purposefully changing the subject. 

"No. You know me. I rarely sleep, especially when something is imminent."

"I remember," Buffy breathed. She also remembered how Spike always seemed to sleep with the trust of a young boy when she was in his arms. She shifted away from Angel, and a flicker of hurt crossed his face for an instant. Catching the nuance that lingered in his eyes, she reassured, "I'm sleepy though. Think you could try to get some sleep with me?" She tilted her head just a bit to indicate that he should go back to his bed. 

With great reluctance, Angel removed his arms from her middle, pausing to caress her cheek without shame. "You're beautiful."

"I am?" Buffy would have blushed if she could have in her vampire guise. "Even as a member of the undead?"

"Yes, even as a member of the undead," he echoed, winking at her.

Her reluctance to be with him rushed forth once again. She was no closer to understanding the feeling, so for now, she accepted and relished the warmth of his love. 

Buffy remained awake long after Angel had fallen asleep. Somehow, he had transferred his sleeplessness to her, and she wasn't sure what to do with it, so she tossed and turned. Nothing was coherent in her mind, and she couldn't bring herself to view Spike, so she lay with her back to him. Angel's solid back filled her vision, and she was safe.

Then, without reason, she sprang from the bed, and before she knew what she was doing, she was kneeling next to Spike, fingers millimeters from touching his skin. With the frank openness with which she examined Angel, she allowed Spike to fill her senses. Tingles she couldn't control or name poured over her own epidermis, raising an army of goose bumps. 

Part of her wished he would open his eyes, but the other part of her was terrified of what she might find out about herself if he did so. If he was unaware of her, she was safe. (Safety was apparently most important at the moment.) As she studied the innocence of his features, a truth overcame all other thoughts.

Since her arrival from Cleveland, she hadn't been able to look at him. . . not truly. Her mind worked as she studied the dark concave of his cheek and the way his lashes splayed across his pale skin. She tried to imagine the blue depths of his eyes penetrating her green ones but failed. She couldn't recall when she'd last stared into his eyes without holding herself back. 

Even when they had been together before he obtained a soul, she hadn't allowed herself to really *look* at him. She'd been too ashamed of herself. And even after he had a soul, she'd only found herself *seeing* him a handful of times. . . most of which she had been so wrapped up in her own overwhelming feelings that she couldn't focus on him clearly. One of those times had been the evening before when she had slept in the same bed with him. . . when she'd shared her recurring dream about him. She decided that was the closest she'd come to letting him inside. 

And she absolutely couldn't. . .*couldn't* allow that to happen again.

But she wasn't sure why.

Was she too afraid to let anyone in? Jonathan would probably chide her on this matter, asking her why she was choosing to close herself off when doing so wasn't what she truly wanted. 

Sharing herself with Angel was easy when she allowed it. What was the difference between Spike and Angel? She used to be able to open herself fully to Spike the vampire. Maybe the better question was why wouldn't she allow herself to open up to him now? Did his humanity have anything to do with it?

Liquid splashed over her lower lashes, and she blinked and shook her head. She didn't understand everything yet, but she knew that when she was close to Spike, there was something there. . . something alive. . . something that she knew couldn't be contained if she opened herself to it completely. 

With a low sigh, he stirred then, rolling onto his back so that her fingers brushed over his bare arm. She shivered and resisted the urge to voluntarily touch him.

Reality came crashing back, and she found herself longing for the safety of her bed. With the expert finesse of someone who knew the ins and outs of denial, she packed away her thoughts and feelings, pulling and tugging back the dream she'd just had about Angel and their life together. 

The dream was familiar. . . something she'd clung to for a long time. It was simple and not at all confusing. . . a remnant from times when things were easier, more black and white. 

As such, she felt safe with the dream of a life with Angel. . . like it was a security blanket, and she retreated to her bed to wrap herself in sleep once again. Maybe tomorrow she would try to figure out the confusing web of today. 

* * *

TBC. . . next chapter, some action, less exposition. . . and a new turn of events. . .

Thanks for all the reviews! I took a short break from the series to write a very short 4-part series called "Oblivion." If you haven't had a chance to read it, check it out. It's a post-"Chosen" B/S fic as well! ;o) I'd love to know what you think of it!

K, guys! Let me know. . . anything you want to happen? Can't make any promises about what I include but suggestions are welcome! And yes, this will eventually be a B/S romance! ;o)


	9. Chapter 8

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 8_**

Something was different about Buffy. 

Spike couldn't quite put his finger on *what* was different, but he sensed something in the way she peeked at him when she thought he wasn't paying attention. 

Catching her once, he opened his mouth to ask her about it, but she abruptly ducked her head to the contents of the open pack on her bed. 

He ended up dismissing the change as somehow related to Stephan's revelations. After all, he felt oddly reserved and pensive as he dressed for their upcoming conference with Stephan. 

Once the three were ready, their possessions on their backs, Spike forced himself to eat something for breakfast. Buffy didn't eat anything again until Spike and Angel each bombarded her with a look. 

Then, with the dread of going to their doom, the trio headed toward the room Stephan had chosen for strategizing. In the quiet, Spike reminded himself of the plans he had made with Angel and Buffy before they slept. 

Just as he was about to ask Buffy about the transmission she had made to Fred, a tremendous boom shattered the silence. Grey clouds from a smoke bomb began to fill the empty hallway from the direction of the conference room. 

Shouldering both straps of his pack, Spike joined his companions as they raced forth to see what was happening. Something jumped inside him like a long lost reminder at how much he relished a good fight.

A terrified Roxy burst forth from the billows, long blond hair streaming behind her. Her cheek was smudged with soot, and Spike immediately realized that someone had been dusted. 

With panic in her voice, she stopped before them, gesturing emphatically and gasping. "The. . . oh my god. . . they. . ."

"They who?" Buffy demanded, used to the panic that came with such scenes.

Jolted with the strength of her emotions, Roxy gulped in unneeded air like a fish out of water. "Stephanie's. . . ." Nothing else coherent was coming from her mouth, so she pointed back the way she'd come, pressing past them as the urge to run fueled her. 

"Bloody hell," Spike issued as he saw what Roxy was pointing at. 

After pressing wooden stakes into their hands, Roxy raced away as Buffy, Angel, and Spike were distracted by the throng of vampires sweeping forth from the swirling puffs of grey.

The vampires wore black with yellow bandannas wrapped around their heads like golden caps. 

Stephanie was attacking.

"How?" Buffy asked what they were all thinking, but Roxy was fleeing. "Roxy! Wait! Where's Stephan?" 

As jumpy as a jackrabbit, Roxy paused. "Stephan's. . . dust." She choked the word out as if it was stuck in her throat. Something flickered over her face. She shoved her hand in her pocket. 

A key glinted in the light. 

She tossed the metal to Spike who caught it between his palms. "What's this?"

"The key to a safe in the conference room. You'll need the contents." 

Before Spike could ask his next question, Stephanie's minions were upon them, and the fight began in earnest. 

In three years as a human, Spike had forgotten how it felt to fight with extra strength. He'd relied on his years of experience to get him through the times he'd had to brawl with the enemy while working with Angel's team. 

But now, he wasn't a bit surprised that he slipped effortlessly back into the routine of knowing just how far he could push things without getting himself killed. He punched, kicked, and dodged with renewed ease, and he threw his whole body into knocking aside dozens of vamps, laughing as he did so. 

At his first chuckle, Spike saw Buffy cast him a glance full of wonderment as if she had never seen him. His skin tingled at her attention, and he offered her a wide grin as she moved her part of the fray closer to him.

"Hey, love. Having fun, yet?" he asked as he blocked a blow to the head and twisted the vamps arm counter-clockwise. 

"Much as you are!" she replied.

Spike acknowledged that her words were true. She was practically glowing with energy as she whirled and spun, weaving barely detectable patterns with her movements. 

Dust was flying everywhere, blurring even his heightened vision and burning his nostrils with the scent of decay

"We getting any closer to our goal, pet?"

Blonde hair bouncing, Buffy shook her head as she dropped between the legs of a startled vamp, turned, and staked him, adding more dirt to the atmosphere. "Not that I can tell."

"And where's the grand poof?" The flow of the dance was making him feel cocky. 

A nearby growl met Spike's sensitive ears. "I'm right over here, Spike. I told you that I don't like you to call me that."

"Right, right. I forgot about our little heart to heart." Spike parried and dodged, and two vamps butted heads with a satisfying crunch, leaving them open for dusting.

"You better not! Didn't we discuss this? How communication is the most important part of any relationship and that name-calling isn't part of that?" Angel was half-joking as he jabbed his stake into a female vamp who was trying to bite his arm.

"Oh, yeah, soulboy, I remember." Spike flipped a vamp over his shoulder with a grunt. 

"Look who's talking," Angel retorted, pulling a vampire out of Spike's path. 

"You boys need to get a room?" Buffy sang out over the sounds of the fight. "Cause, well, I'm feeling a little left out over here."

"Well, now, I think we should remedy that." Angel's knuckles rapped on something hard and metal. "Found our door."

"Oh, goodie," Buffy responded, hopping over a vamp who'd fallen after she stepped away from his attempt to ram her midsection. "Hey, have you ever noticed that the other vamps don't ever talk when we're killing them?"

"They're too busy concentrating on our brilliant conversations, pet," Spike said, pulling a vamp from Angel's back as he maneuvered through the oncoming vampires. "They're enthralled by our excellent skill with crafting sentences while chewing gum and fighting."

"And blowing bubbles?" she asked with a giggle. 

"Who blows bubbles with all the dust blowing by?" Spike returned as ash flew about his head. 

"Good point."

"Um, looks like we got trouble," Angel interrupted as the sounds of the door opening echoed over the fracas. 

"Don't we always?" Buffy was near Spike's elbow now and kicked backwards to thwart an attack from behind. 

"We found a room." Angel slammed the door shut again.

"That's a relief." Buffy kicked one vamp into another. The opposition's ranks outside the conference room were thin now.

"But there are more vamps in here. . . too many for us to take and get what we need," Angel explained. 

Spike shook his head and started to push past the taller male. "Let's go. We won't try to dust them all. . . just enough to get whatever's in that safe and get out."

"Wait!" a familiar voice shouted from behind them. Buffy, Spike, and Angel saw Roxy racing toward them through the dancing particles. "You can't go in yet. Stephan left one last order."

Spike was sick to death of Stephan's orders and crossed his arms. "What's that, pet?"

Roxy raised her hands, and her light brown eyes turned to black as foreign words flew out of her mouth. A wind blew, sending her blonde hair floating about her head like a cloud. Her fingertips crackled with an energy Spike had only witnessed with Willow.

As Spike was closest to her, he lunged out to grab her. . . to stop the spell, but a searing pain ripped through his skull, sending a roaring echo through his ears. The pain wrapped around his skull and squeezed, and the intensity was stronger than any he'd ever felt even when he was chipped by the Initiative. 

He sank to his knees, holding his head in his hands, and an unbidden groan escaped his lips. In the distance, he heard Buffy emit a similar sound as her body hit the ground. 

In the next second, the tangible pain lifted without fanfare, and Spike opened his eyes. Roxy was watching him intently.

"What did you do, witch?" he demanded, reaching up to grab her throat. 

As Spike was still weak, she evaded him. "I did what I was told to do to fulfill the prophecy. You'll be stronger in your natural state."

"Natural state?" He glanced at Buffy. Angel was bent over her, but Spike could still see that her skin was golden brown. Inhaling, Spike realized that he no longer smelled her familiar scent. 

Wait a second! Her chest was rising and falling. 

Spike put his hand to his chest. His heart thrummed beneath his fingertips. 

"What the hell!" 

Roxy was halfway down the hall, going away from the fight again, but she turned to face them, walking backwards. Despite her distance, her words were haunting:

"The prophecy speaks of a vampire with a soul, a man with a soul, and a Slayer who loves them both. To be most powerful, you have to be what you are. Stephan recognized that after he spoke with you. He said if the worst happened, I was to work the magicks to restore you."

Spike felt weaker already. "How am I. . .?" 

But Roxy was gone. . . engulfed by the ashes of dozens of vampires like a ship sailing into a fog.

Buffy's hand landed on his back. Already, her aura was one of greater confidence. She hadn't been comfortable in the vampire guise. 

And that left him the weak link yet again. 

"Can you stand?" Buffy's words sent a shiver through him. 

A bit numb, he clamored to his feet. Buffy handed him the stake he'd dropped in his fall. How come she didn't look any worse for the wear? Ah, right because she hadn't changed as much as he had. "I'm good." 

Her green eyes melted into his blue ones. 

Spike recalled Roxy's words and searched her eyes for remnants of love. . .

Yet, she averted her gaze before he could latch onto anything he could label.

Spike cleared his throat. "We should go. . . fight. . . I mean, get that piece of dimensional whatnot." 

"You okay being human again?" Angel asked, implying that Spike might have a hard time in the fight.

Straightening his shoulders, Spike was determined. "I am."

* * *

Fighting as a human against an uncountable number of vampires was not fun. 

Spike was tiring. His arms and legs were sore, and his head was throbbing from whatever that Roxy vamp had done to it. To top it off, he was bleeding from numerous wounds he'd accrued in the conference room. Like sharks to a single drop of blood, the vampires were drawn to the metallic scent of his life force.

And yet, he didn't back down once or complain about his predicament. 

Buffy noticed, catching his struggle in the corner of her eye. "What do you guys think you're doing?" she announced. "Picking on a lone human when you could have a chance at *the* Slayer!" With that, she drew the end of her stake across her palm so that fresh blood coursed to the surface.

Like drones, the vamps turned to Buffy, no doubt taking in the heady scent of her blood like hounds on the hunt. Buffy winked at him as the vamps charged her, and Spike inwardly cringed at her overprotection.

Finding himself to be alone, Spike tugged the key out of his jeans pocket and snuck past Angel and Buffy, maneuvering closer to the safe. The large metallic box had been pulled from the wall as if one of the vamps had attempted to open it to obtain the dimensional instrument for Stephanie. Too heavy to carry, it was propped up against the wall with a lone vampire guarding it. . . a vampire with a menacing-looking ax.

Better just to address the obstacle and get it over with. "Say, that's an awfully big ax you go there." Spike strode toward the vampire with an air of self-assurance he wasn't sure he felt.

Ax-vamp growled at him but didn't move.

"Hey, you gonna swing that at me or just stand there and look pretty?" he taunted, plunging deeper into the tricky situation.

The vampire shifted the ax from one hand to the other and took a step forward. "I won't let you take Stephanie's prize."

"Oh yeah?" Spike dove in before the vampire could accommodate the change.

The vampire cried out in shock and pain as Spike hit him square on the nose, then kneed him the groin and ground his stake into his forearm. Still unused to the abrupt change in his strength mid-battle, Spike miscalculated his foe's ability to recover and knocked to the ground with the back end of the ax. Sharp pain lanced across his back. 

"Hate axes," he grumbled as the memory of Joyce's face flashed through his mind. 

Trying to convince himself that lying on the ground was a tactical plan and not a desperate need to rest, Spike remained motionless, waiting for the vamp to hover over him to take a drink. 

As predicted, the vampire came for him, and Spike took full advantage. 

He rammed his head back as he felt teeth graze his neck. 

The vampire yelped and stumbled back, and Spike saw stars. . . and then blackness. 

* * *

"Spike!" 

Spike shot back to reality as he heard a vampire being dusted. The ax clattered to the floor. Running on pure adrenaline, he forced himself upright, nodding to Buffy past the wave of dizziness that overcame him. 

"You got the key?" Buffy asked, beating back the vampires who'd followed her when she rescued Spike from further physical abuse. 

He opened his mouth and found himself gulping in air. Buffy gripped his shoulder to steady him, worry etching her features. 

"The key, Spike!"

Something was in his hand. He looked down at the metal object. . . the key against his palm. "I've got it!" 

He was swaying, and the world was spinning. 

"Can you use it?" Buffy was busy dusting their enemy. 

"I-I think so."

Metal clattered against metal as he tried several times before the key slid home. With effort, he twisted, and the safe sprang open. 

A single object was at the base of the box, and Spike grasped the narrow rod with uncertain fingers. He prayed that he wouldn't pass out as he rose to his feet again. 

"Got it," he called to Buffy, not sure if his voice even carried.

Apparently, it did. "Great! Now open a portal!" Buffy rolled over the back of a vampire, spun, and dusted. 

"Right," Spike mumbled with something akin to sarcasm. "Make it work. How the hell?" He forced his blurring eyes to focus as he scanned the object that lay across his palm. No features marked the surface. . . no obvious buttons or switches. 

When all else failed. . . imitate.

Spike held up the device and brought it across the air as he'd seen Michael do when they'd been chased by the kranooks. The machine started vibrating, and a thin knifelike attachment jutted forth. To Spike, it felt like he was slicing through a loaf of bread. 

A line glistened green and bright against the dim lighting of the conference room. A small, wavering portal formed and grew, spreading open with buzzing energy and the scent of wintergreen. 

"Buffy!" he called. 

Caught up with attackers, Buffy didn't even afford him a glance. "Great! Now, get through it! More of Stephanie's vamps are coming, and Angel and I can't handle all of them."

"Where's Angel?" As much as he sometimes despised Angel, Spike couldn't just leave him to get destroyed. 

In a last ditch effort, Buffy jabbed her stake rapidly into two nearby vamps and threw the wooden weapon across the room to dust the vamp behind her. Her face was covered with blood, and her ponytail was falling loose. "Across the room. Go through! It's starting to close."

Spike squinted through the delirium that threatened to overcome him and spied Angel across the darkened room, surrounded by Stephanie's minions. No way Angel would make it to the portal in time. 

Summoning air into his reluctant lungs, he shouted, "Angel! Catch!" 

Tucking a vampire's head up under his armpit, Angel's head shot up from the scuffle. He held up his free hand, and Spike hurled the dimensional device in a miraculously straight line. Angel caught the device with ease. "Thanks! Go! I'll catch up to you later!"

At Angel's words, Buffy was tugging at Spike's shirt. And before he could react, Spike was pulled into the other dimension.

TBC. . . Next chapter, they find themselves in another dimension! Buffy and Spike will not be with Angel for the next few chapters. But he will still be present. Make no sense? You'll find out! The next few chapters will bring out revelations for Spike and Buffy so stay tuned! ;o) Thanks for reading! 


	10. Chapter 9

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 9_**

Buffy held tight to Spike's hand as she stumbled through the dimensional portal and felt the rush of energy laving over her skin. She was desperate to get away from the fight that had sapped her, and she was worried about leaving Angel behind. 

However, she was more concerned about Spike's abrupt transformation back to the frailties of humanity in the midst of the battle. He'd sustained some form of head injury and seemed more than a little out of sorts. The transition to another dimension was hard enough on one with supernatural strength. . . let alone a human who was hanging onto consciousness by a thread. 

The step into the new world made her dizzy, and she allowed herself to squat to the soft, wet ground to regain steadiness. Spike's hand was firmly tucked in the crook of her elbow. 

As the stars that marred her vision faded, she rose with caution, senses on alert. 

Spike's arm snaked around her waist, and she allowed him to lean his weight against her. His breath over her cheek was warm and heavy from exertion. At least, he was still alive. Her muscles tingled at his nearness, and deep within, she found herself yearning for him to never let her go.

The world around them was dark and wooded. Sounds of the night echoed around her, and the air was dense with moisture from the humidity. She guessed they were in the Louisiana of a different dimension, but she just didn't know *which* dimension. 

And she didn't know the way out of the forest. 

Dim light from the stars and moon flashed through the spaces in the tree branches above, and she attempted to view Spike's face. His eyes were drooping, and he looked dazed as if someone had beaten him. Shoving aside the guilty feeling that sprang in her, she cupped his cheek to steady his head and shock him into sensibility. 

"Spike!" she said with more harshness than she intended. "Stay awake for me. I can't have you blacking out now." 

Spike couldn't focus.

So, she demanded, "Say something. Who am I?"

He took longer to respond that she would have liked, but he managed, "B-buffy."

"Good, and who are you?"

"Spike," he said with greater clarity.

"Can you walk?"

Shifting feet resounded over the insects chirruping. "Uh huh."

She placed a hand against his rising and falling chest because he was swaying. "Okay, because we have to get out of here. I'm not sure where we are, but we can't exactly stay here."

Spike mumbled something incoherent.

"What?" She leaned closer, and as she did, Spike's knees gave out.

They collapsed to the dirt together, their foreheads momentarily touching.

"Angel?" he queried.

Buffy shook her head even though Spike couldn't see her. "Not sure where he'll end up." She bit her lip and then continued without certainty, "We'll find him though."

Spike sighed. 

Before Buffy could make sense of his impatience, she heard a twig snap from the nearby brush. 

Disentangling herself from Spike's limbs, Buffy stared in the direction of the noise, ready for a fight despite her exhaustion. She would do anything to guard the helpless man at her feet. "Who's there?" 

The voice that rang out was tentative, "Buffy?"

"Angel?"

A familiar form emerged before Spike and Buffy. "It is you," Angel said as if Buffy and Spike hadn't just left him. . . as if he hadn't seen her in years. 

Buffy smiled in relief, and Angel caressed her cheek with tenderness. Buffy jerked back in surprise. "Y-you're human!"

* * *

The steady beep of the machine kept time with the motion of Spike's chest beneath the white sheet. Though unconscious since she and Angel had brought him to the nearest hospital, Spike was still breathing, and for that, Buffy was grateful. 

She hadn't left his side for hours despite her brain's desperate attempt to shut down. Hospitals were not a place of peace for her, and Spike was her only tie to the other dimension. . . her world. She refused to let go of his hand. Answers to her hundreds of questions could come later. 

All she knew for certain was that she was with Spike, and the Angel of this world was keeping watch over their little corner of the hospital. 

Buffy clasped Spike's warm hand between her small palms as she thought of how surreal the notion of Angel being human was to her. How could that have happened here and not in her dimension? And where was the Spike of this world? 

With a quiet moan, Spike shifted in what the doctor had assured her was his sleep. Buffy felt something tug at her heart. He looked so vulnerable laying there, and she just wished he would open his eyes and tell her to sod off because he wasn't vulnerable. . . least of all to her. 

She'd seen a spark in his eyes when he'd fought earlier. It was a glint that she hadn't seen in his eyes since he obtained a soul, and she wanted it back.

"Buffy?"

Buffy started and turned abruptly to see a tan and very human Angel standing in the doorway, dark eyes dancing with something that she couldn't quite identify. "Angel," she breathed in relief. 

Angel moved his hands behind his back as if he was hiding something. "I didn't mean to startle you." 

Buffy glanced at Spike who remained asleep. "It's okay," she whispered, stroking her thumb across his fingers as she faced Angel. For reasons she didn't understand, she felt defensive and protective of the man on the bed.

"Is Spike going to be okay?"

"I think so," she said. "The doctor said he has a concussion and probably just needs to sleep for a while. They bandaged his head. But otherwise, he should be fine. They just want to make sure all systems are go when he wakes up."

A smile played about Angel's lips. "Just like Spike. . . he's always been tough. . . hardheaded."

Without realizing what she was doing, Buffy squeezed Spike's hand and grinned. "He is."

"And your injuries?"

"All healed up. . . well, mostly." Buffy closed her mouth and stared at the floor.

"So," Angel began, running a hand through his dark hair, "I'm going to catch a nap in the waiting room." Buffy must have looked alarmed because he added, "But don't worry, I'll be close by."

Relaxing into the bed's mattress, Buffy nodded. "Good. I'll be here until. . ."

"Until he wakes up." Angel's eyes betrayed a hint of sadness, and Buffy filed it away to be explored later. 

"Yeah." Her eyes drifted toward Spike who had rolled onto his side away from her and subsequently released her hand. Her attention remained on him. "And then, we'll. . ."

"I'll answer more questions than you might want answers for," Angel finished for her. 

Buffy didn't respond, but she wasn't sure if it was out of weariness or lack of necessary words. 

She wasn't even aware that Angel was gone.

Instead, after only a moment of hesitation, she did what she had longed to do the previous night. She climbed onto the bed behind Spike, kicking off her shoes with a clunk. Following her instincts, she wrapped her arms around his midsection, buried her face in his familiar scent, and allowed herself to fall into dreams. 

* * *

Warm lips slid over her mouth, nudging her lips apart.

Following her body's gentle urgings, Buffy sighed and moved closer to the source of the burst of shivers that shot through her limbs and torso. She groaned as the kiss intensified, and a tongue requested immediate entrance. Her mouth granted the visitor its requested audience, and she matched the urgency with her own energy. 

The rest of her body soon joined in the waltz of desire, and her hands ran over the bulge of muscles and the curve of bones that were beginning to move in time with her own. 

She tugged at cotton, leather, and synthetic tubing, wanting freedom from society's restraints, and she worked with a surety of experience to grant them emancipation. At first, she had aid, but then,

"Buffy," came the low rumble, half-filled with love and half with a hint of fear.

The single utterance destroyed her bubble of dreams. The sun was just beginning to bathe their room in the tender light of morning, and she was suddenly drowning in the blue seas of Spike's eyes. 

In a rush of confusion, she ducked her head to his chest to find his heart thundering in her ears. His heartbeat wasn't the only sign of his arousal, and she blushed although no one could see her. 

He stroked her back and long, tangled hair with initial hesitation, so she slipped her arms around his waist to pull him closer and reassure him that she wasn't going anywhere.

She found her voice first, "Thank god, you're okay."

"Worried you, eh, pet?" His voice was hoarse with surprise and uncertainty. This was new for them. . . at least of late.

Her response was clear as a bell, "Yes."

He pushed her back a little. "Don't worry. I'm stubborn. I'll survive."

"If we could survive on stubbornness alone. . ."

"Then, we'd be immortal," Spike said with a grin that faded almost as it formed. His arms released her, and he scooted away. 

Buffy was taken aback. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." Tears were in his eyes. "I didn't mean to take advantage."

Despite the passage of four years and the renewed forgiveness between them, he was still afraid of hurting her. With haste, Buffy closed the gap between them, placing two fingers on his lips. "No. You didn't take advantage. It was me. . ."

A small cry interrupted them, filling Buffy's ears with something that she never thought she'd hear.

"Mommy!"

Buffy bolted upright to see a tiny, four-year-old girl burst into the room. . . a little girl with light brown waves framing her fair face and piercing dark brown eyes. 

The child flung herself at Buffy with vigor, wrapping her arms middle as if she might never let go. Not quite sure what to do, Buffy held the girl with a bit of awkwardness. An extremely angry Angel emerged, ignoring the compromising position of Spike and Buffy. With tenderness, he pulled the girl back.

"Celeste. No, that's not Mommy. Come here." The girl, Celeste, let go of Buffy in favor of Angel's neck. 

"But it is Mommy," she insisted, pointing at Buffy with a pout. 

Angel avoided everyone's eyes and glanced over his shoulder. "Fred!"

Fred poked her head around the corner with a sheepish expression. "Sorry."

Angel let his anger seep through. "I told you not to let her come near this room!"

The Fred of this dimension had short brown hair and was just as tan as Angel. She also seemed to have gained a healthy amount of weight. "We went to get a snack, and she took off when I put her down to get some change."

Buffy raised her hand. "Excuse me. What's going on?"

Fred and Angel seemed annoyed by the intrusion, and Celeste reached for Buffy again, kicking her legs against Angel's abdomen.

"Mommy!" Celeste glared at Angel. "Put me down, Daddy, so I can give Mommy a hug."

Propped up on his elbows, Spike snorted. "Figures."

Angel rolled his eyes and passed the squirming girl to Fred. "Take her to get some breakfast."

Fred nodded, eager to correct her mistake. "Right."

Celeste let out a shriek, realizing that she wasn't going to get her way. "No! I want Mommy!"

Fred's soothed the girl and headed down the hall.

Silence dominated the room as Angel, Spike, and Buffy were left alone. 

"The truth," Buffy demanded. "Now."

TBC. . . what's going on with Buffy and Angel. . . and with Buffy and Spike? Where is the real Angel? And what did Stephan want them to do? Find out soon!


	11. Chapter 10

**__**

Chapter 10

In the late afternoon sun, Spike concentrated on the hum of Angel's SUV and studiously overlooked Angel and Buffy talking in the front seat. He couldn't stand their level of intimacy, no matter that Angel wasn't *really* Angel. 

Instead, he returned Fred's sympathetic smile and then examined the sleeping Celeste. 

The child was beautiful with full cheeks and fair skin that radiated health and glowing happiness. She had a strong hold on the innocence of youth, and she was loved.

Spike wondered if Buffy had looked like her when she was little. 

He gently stroked her cheek, and she shoved her thumb in her mouth. His heart constricted, and for a second, he let himself wonder. . . what if?

Would a different little girl have his expressive blue eyes, a tendency to be sarcastic, and a penchant for poetry? 

He shook his head. No use thinking such things because they would never happen. . . not between him and Buffy. . . no matter what might have happened this morning when he'd woken with an armful of Slayer.

"Spike?" Buffy was watching him from the vehicle door. She had the most beautiful soul he'd ever seen. 

"Hmm?" 

"We're here. You okay?" Her eyes were filled with concern, but he didn't know what to make of it. Did she pity him? 

Annoyed at himself for trying to understand her yet again, he slammed out of the mini-van, hoping she would be just as uncertain as he was. 

Buffy's expression changed to one of annoyance, and she closed the door to the SUV so hard, the vehicle shook. Spike was glad.

He turned to the startled Angel. Spike knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care. "Look. I don't really want to interfere with happy family reunions and all, so I'm just gonna. . ." He glanced around. They were at yet another hotel. "Go hang out at the bar. . . if you need me. . . not that you will."

Spike brushed past Fred and Celeste who were staring at him with wide eyes. Screw them all. He needed a drink.

* * *

He'd chosen the darkest corner of the bar, and he nursed his beer without enthusiasm. His stomach was a virtual melting post of anger, hurt, and guilt. 

To distract himself, he studied his surroundings. The bar was small and cramped but smelled of some sort of air freshener as if the owner was trying to disguise the torn, ratty carpet, the scarred tables and chairs, and the cracked, well-used glasses. The ceilings were low, and the owner kept the lights dim. Very few patrons haunted the facility, and most were so shrouded in darkness that Spike's human eyes couldn't make out their features. Even the bartender was non-descript.

Buffy consumed his thoughts despite his attempts to deny her.

She'd kissed him this morning. . . held him like he might disappear, but then, as soon as she found out that she and Angel had a child in this dimension, she forgot him.

The events of the last week or so had his mind and heart in a tumult, and he honestly didn't know how much more he could take.

He took a swig of warm beer and frowned at the bottle. 

"So, you feeling sorry for yourself?" 

Spike blinked. His thoughts were so loud that for a second, he thought they were outside his head. 

"You're not daft." A familiar figure slid into the seat next to Spike. 

Spike decided to ignore what *had* to be a hallucination, some left over torment from when he attained a soul. Perhaps becoming fully human again triggered a momentary bit of insanity. He set aside the alcohol. He didn't need to further cloud his mind.

"So, the Buffy of your world is chatting it up with the poof, eh?"

"Go away," Spike said.

People at a nearby table looked up at him.

His twin leaned forward, smelling of cigarettes and old leather. "I'm not a figment of your imagination, Spike."

Spike dragged out a smirk and sat back, crossing his arms, so he could get a better glimpse of whom he was dealing with. "So, you're me, and I'm you."

"Sort of." The Spike of this world was still a vampire. . . still a vampire with a soul. "That's better."

Hey, at least vampire Spike would be a distraction. "This could be entertaining."

"Could be? It *is.*" Vamp Spike snatched the beer from Spike's hand. He grinned as he took a long drink. Then, he surveyed Spike. "So, this is what I look like human. Hmm. Good strong heart, still in shape, still got the same hair. Damn. I look good. . .well, except for the bandages." He leaned in closer. "But you know what?"

Spike squirmed a little. "What?"

Vamp Spike sniffed. "I'm not making good use of my humanity."

"What do you mean?"

"You still got a Slayer by the name of Buffy Summers in your world, and you're human while the big poof isn't. And you're not even going for her." Vampire Spike drained the rest of Spike's beer and set the bottle down with a thump. "You're like I was when I first got the soul, all sour and brooding."

Spike's temper flared. "I think you don't know what you're talking about. Things between Buffy and me are complicated."

Vampire Spike waved a dismissive hand at Spike. "Complicated? Every relationship is complicated."

"You don't have a clue. This world is different from mine. And by the way, where is *your* Buffy?" 

For the first time, vampire Spike seemed sad. "That's a good question."

"And is there an answer?" Spike was feeling petulant.

"First, I need another beer." Vamp Spike stood and dug a tangled wad of bills and a crumpled cigarette package from his pocket. Pulling out a cigarette with his lips, he asked, "Want one?"

Spike melted a little at the offer. "Sure."

A few minutes later, Spike was stubbing out his first cigarette in years and was nursing his second beer of the afternoon. "She's dead, isn't she?" No use skirting around it. Besides, he drank so infrequently now that he could blame the alcohol for loosening his tongue.

Vampire Spike closed his eyes. "She is."

Something familiar and sharp stabbed into Spike's chest. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and kept his words simple lest he choke on them. "How?"

"I blame Angel." Demon Spike paused. "But I also blame myself."

"Okay, that's clear as the Gulf of Mexico."

Spike's counterpart grinned. "Remember that thing with Dru in the Gulf?"

"Those were the days." Spike sighed. Things had been so uncomplicated when he didn't have a soul. . . when he was still a vampire. "But this is now."

Vamp Spike continued without further prompt. "There was a turning point. . . a point in both our dimensions that led to Buffy's demise in this dimension but not in yours."

"The battle at the hellmouth with the First."

"Yes. Do you remember that little scene where Buffy greeted our dear granddad with a kiss?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Of course. Better than I want to."

"That's it. . . that's the turning point."

"The kiss is the turning point?"

"No, you idiot. That's when Angel presented her with the lovely medallion. He gave her a choice."

"She sent him away." The truth was seeping into the fibers of Spike's being, and he felt pieces of a puzzle falling into place. 

Vampire Spike took a gulp of beer. "Yep. In *your* dimension, she sent him away. In mine, I'm afraid the lovely Peaches stuck around to aid in the final battle at the ole Sunnydale hellmouth."

Spike's soul felt like it was humming. "She sent him away in mine. . ."

"She chose *you* in your world." 

The truth was stunning, and Spike's mouth hung open. Vampire Spike stuck a cigarette in it for him.

Lighting the fag for Spike, demon Spike continued, "Funny thing is the Powers that Be have the power to set things a certain way, but humans still have free will. They granted humanity to whomever Buffy chose as the champion."

"So the reason I'm human is. . ."

"Buffy chose you to be the recipient of the gift."

"Oh." 

"Yeah, oh. That's why I hate to see you wasting your time when you still have a chance with her."

Spike was silent. Then, "What happened to your Buffy?"

Vampire Spike shifted his eyes to the main area of the bar. "She passed away." He stared down at his lap, and Spike could tell he was trying not to cry. When he spoke again, bitterness laced his tone, "And she didn't even die a Slayer's death."

Spike averted his gaze as well; it was hard to see his other self under normal circumstances, much less tearful. He didn't quite know what to say. 

"Spike!" a familiar voice rang in his head. She sounded glad to see him, and her tone contained more than a little concern.

Immense relief filled him as he witnessed Buffy across from him with a puzzled expression. "Buffy!" 

Buffy narrowed her eyes at vampire Spike. "And other Spike."

Spike's counterpart seemed disconcerted by her presence, but then, he quickly tucked his feelings away behind a sneer. "Slayer," he acknowledged, hooking his thumb in the waistline of his jeans. 

Shaking her head as if to clear her senses, Buffy regarded Spike. "It's like you of old. Spike with. . .bite."

Spike wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but before he could respond, vamp Spike said, "Still got the soul though."

"Angel's back. Wesley and Lorne. . . er, the Wesley and Lorne of this dimension waited in the woods. They used some sort of dimensional-disturbance detector to locate him." 

"And, we're off to join him, then?" demon Spike asked.

"Yeah," Buffy said, "we are. We need him for this prophecy to work, so we can destroy Vamp Villa."

"Can't wait to see the old bloodsucker," he returned. "There will be four of us, then, won't there? And one Buffy. It'll be interesting to see how this plays out."

Buffy ignored him and centered on Spike. "And the Angel here filled me in on some info about Stephan and our situation that you might find interesting."

Vampire Spike wasn't muzzled by Buffy's disregard. "Did he talk about Celeste? Or about the Buffy in this world? Or about how he'd like to keep you here, prophesy be damned?"

* * *


	12. Chapter 11

**__**

Chapter 11

In the darkened bar, Buffy gave vampire Spike a hard, cold stare that could have cut through the murkiest fog. Her voice came out in a brittle staccato, "As a matter of fact, he did. Celeste is their child. . . he and Buffy's. They were married, and she died. He couldn't even talk about her death because it hurts him too much." She realized she'd just stated what they all knew anyway. "A-and you're just jealous of all that because you didn't get what you wanted. . . what you thought you deserved."

"Jealous of who? Peaches? Bloody unlikely," Spike's twin scoffed.

Buffy felt a familiar twinge of sharp anger at the vampire duplicate of the human Spike of her world. 

Her fist automatically clenched and raised, ready to crash down on his face. 

But something stopped her.

*Her* Spike's hand closed around her fist, and with one look into his dark blue eyes, she allowed him to lower her arm. 

"Let's just go find Angel," he said, his voice a little hoarse. . . with what, Buffy wasn't sure. "We can deal with the rest later." 

The green blaze in her eyes cooled to a low flame, and she nodded. She hadn't quite realized it before. . . or maybe she had, but it was just becoming clear. . . there was something amazing and wonderful about human Spike that rose above and beyond demon Spike, demon Angel, and perhaps even human Angel. She averted her gaze to avoid having to deal with the emotions stirring within her. She didn't have time for them now. "Right. You're right." 

"And you know where we're going?" Spike asked.

Demon Spike huffed and lit a cigarette. "It's a trap. You know it is."

Buffy pretended as if the vampire Spike wasn't there but wrinkled her nose as she fanned the smoke out of her face. "Uh huh. Angel's waiting with the SUV."

Spike and Buffy hurried through the quiet lobby and out the front door to the waiting vehicle. Trudging with obvious reluctance behind them, Spike's undead twin continued to smoke despite the glares from the hotel staff. 

Spike opened the vehicle door for Buffy, but before she could climb into the front seat, vampire Spike scooted around her and hopped up next to the Angel of this world.

Angel frowned as he saw the vampire Spike. "What do you think you're doing?"

Demon Spike grinned. "Going along for the ride. Nice night for a drive."

"I don't think so."

"I do."

Angel's brooding mask threatened to slip over his calm visage. "Well, you're at least going to put out your cigarette. You know the rules about this SUV."

Vampire Spike cast a sidelong look at the empty car seat behind Angel, his eyes softening. "Right, the munchkin. Even if she's not here." He rolled down the window and put out the cigarette on the side of the SUV. "Done. And it hasn't been that long since I took a drive with you."

"Four years," growled human Angel as Buffy and Spike clamored into the back seat. 

In between buckling her seat belt and accidentally brushing Spike's leg, Buffy filed that little fact next to the one that remembered that Celeste was four. 

"I hadn't counted," demon Spike murmured as the SUV lurched into drive. 

* * *

"Back into the lion's den," Buffy whispered to herself as she stepped from the safety of the SUV into the heavy dampness of the Louisiana night. 

"What did you say?" Angel asked, nearing her side and peering into the dark backdrop of trees.

He was *human* Angel, not *her* Angel. She had to put labels on them, or she got confused. In response to human Angel, Buffy shook her head and shivered despite the heat. "Nothing." 

She turned to look for Spike who appeared behind her. She felt better knowing he was there and whole even if she'd seen him dry swallow a painkiller on the trip. With gentle fingertips, she'd touched his head then, and he'd offered her a smile to let her know he was okay. 

In the moonlight from above, he bore a similar smile now, and she leaned back a bit to feel the reassuring warmth of his skin beneath his sleeve. She found that if she focused on him, she seemed to have a greater handle on what was real.

Human Angel eyed them, but in the shadows, Buffy couldn't read him. Her heart ached a little for how much it probably hurt to see her. He and the Buffy of this world shared a child. In this world, she. . . no, the Buffy of this world had chosen Angel to stand as champion. The Spike of this world had remained a vampire, and she could cut his bitterness with a knife. What did that mean for her? Had she possessed the power to make or break two lives in this dimension as well as her own? What if *she* had chosen Angel instead of Spike? Would she be married with a child, perhaps two? What would have become of her Spike? 

Without a sound, the small party began making its way through the forest with human Angel guiding them. The woods were silent except for the slight breeze rustling the pine needles and the sounds of three people trying not to breathe too loudly. Buffy couldn't even hear their footsteps. Her companions had been vampires at some point. . . one still was, and she was a Slayer, able to blend with her surroundings as Giles had taught her years ago. 

Buffy closed her eyes and inhaled the pine scent that intoxicated her senses. She had to keep a clear head about things. She didn't belong in this world, and they. . . she, human Spike, and vampire Angel. . . had a mission. 

Spike broke her train of thought with a question directed at human Angel, "So, what's this info about Stephan that Buffy was telling us about?"

Human Angel shoved his hands in his coat pockets much the same way vampire Angel had a habit of doing. Buffy could tell he was trying not to sound too eager in his response, "Stephan sent a messenger here a few days ago. He had some important information to tell us about Vamp Villa, which we didn't even know truly existed. We learned about the vampire city and about Stephanie's plans to unleash the city in your dimension."

"Michael," Spike said.

"That git?" vampire Spike broke in from the back of the group. "The one dating Harmony? Poor wanker."

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy reacted without thinking. Quickly, she reached back for her Spike and squeezed his wrist. "Not you." Good night, this was getting confusing.

"Anyway," Angel continued, "Michael told us that Stephanie had the second half of a dimensional key that would all the emergence of Vampire Villa into your dimension. He added that Stephanie had managed to set up a semi-permanent dimensional portal between our dimension and the vampire city. She was said to have hidden the second half of the key here."

"Interesting." Buffy could tell that Spike was turning that bit of information over in his head. 

"So, as soon as we find your Angel, we'll be searching for that piece."

"Got any leads?" Spike asked.

Demon Spike snorted, his cigarette lighter forming a tiny beacon against the darkness. "He's got plenty of leads."

"What does that mean?" Buffy was growing tired of Spike's twin being so insistent that human Angel had ulterior motives when he was so obviously jaded.

Human Angel stopped short, and Buffy's heart jumped at the sudden change. She held her breath as he hissed back, "Spike, put out that cigarette!"

This time, demon Spike didn't protest and did as he was told.

Buffy held her breath. 

That's when she heard a familiar slithering sound that made her sick to her stomach.

"Kranooks," Spike whispered nearby.

"Bloody hell," his twin said. "They're coming straight for us."

"Meaning they found your Angel," human Angel added. "And Lorne and Wesley."

"What do we do?" Buffy asked. 

"We fight."

"Great. With what?"

Human Angel unsheathed a sword from his pack. "Got one of these for each of you."

* * *

Buffy half-expected the kranooks to be slimy. 

She'd never been more wrong. 

The human-snake hybrids were covered in layers of armor-like scales that flaked off when the swords hit them. It took several dead-on swings to penetrate their thick hides. To further complicate the situation, they had arms that were more distended than human arms and therefore had more length with which to grab at her and the others. She was grateful that the swords they bore were long. 

And their numbers were too many for her to count in the dark depths of the forest. She lamented that she couldn't even see them until they were right in front of her. And more than once, she'd hit a tree and had to pry the metal from solid wood before the next kranook could grab her. 

Unlike during the battle with the vampires earlier, the kranook battle was eeriely quiet as she and the others were too focused on their prey to banter. Her arms ached, and she could see no end to the onslaught. She hadn't even caught sight of she and Spike's Angel yet, much less Wesley or Lorne. Hell, she couldn't see her own hand in front of her face because of tree limbs blocking her view. Where's a witch with a tinkerbell light spell when you need one? She missed Willow.

She was getting worried about the wounded human among them. "Spike?" she called over the sounds of the kranooks' strident hissing, whirling and striking at a kranook behind her. 

"Here, Slayer," demon Spike grunted. 

"No, other Spike," she clarified, a bit annoyed, kicking a second kranook into a tree trunk that she'd hit with her sword multiple times.

"He's somewhere here. I just ran across him," human Angel threw at her, driving his blade home.

"Is he. . .?"

"He's fine. Holding his own despite being concussed," he assured, ducking a kranook tail. "I sent him after Angel and the others."

"Where are they?" Buffy strained to catch a glimpse of her companions between attacks. 

Human Angel touched her arm, sending cold chills up and down her spine. "Hold on." 

He raised a small instrument to his mouth and blew into it. The device emitted a sharp keening noise that made Buffy want to drop her sword and cover her ears.

At the sound, the kranooks began slithering backward, over their fallen companions and becoming undetectable against the black of night. 

Human Angel lowered the instrument just as the Lorne and Wesley of this dimension emerged from the brush with an unconscious, very pale Angel. . . *her* Angel.

"What happened?" Buffy cried as she rushed forward to inspect him. 

Lorne and Wesley exchanged uncomfortable glances and dropped their burdon to the ground. Buffy knelt beside him and demanded, "Where's Spike?"

Wesley stepped over Buffy as if she weren't present and addressed human Angel, "It's done."

"What's done?" Buffy's heart was tripping into overdrive. 

"You got the piece?" Human Angel was eager. . . far too eager for Buffy.

Lorne withdrew something from his jacket pocket. "Here."

"Great. Then, we have all we need." Human Angel sheathed his sword and took the object Lorne presented him.

Vampire Angel was stirring in Buffy's arms, and something sticky and warm trailed over her forearm. As carefully as she could, she laid him to the ground and rose, senses scanning the background for signs of either Spike. "What's going on here?"

"Now what?" Wesley asked.

"Now, we pay a visit to Stephanie."

Before Buffy could react, she felt an electric current lance through her body, paralyzing her from further action. She strained to push past the pain, but her brain was determined to protect her from going into shock and stole her consciousness even as words of protest formed on her lips. Her last perception was of her body falling against the cool grass.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updates. . . I wrote a short series and a ficlet in between. You can find both at my website, Tranquil Daydreams! 

One is called "Oblivion" and is rated PG-13. It's a short, complete series from Buffy's POV about how Spike comes back after "Chosen." Spoiler free for Angel season 5.

The other is called "Walking the Edges" and is rated NC-17. It's another B/S and is Buffy POV. You can actually find this one at my live journal. . . www. livejournal. com /users/sandy_s (without the spaces)!

Next chapter will address what's going on with Human Angel and his cohorts from that dimension. What happened to the Spikes? Stay tuned!!!! 


	13. Chapter 12

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 12_**

Ice cold liquid poured over Spike's head, and as he bolted up, he gagged and choked, struggling to get a breath around the fluid that deluged his nose and mouth. His hand slipped in some loose dirt, and his left shoulder hit something with a painful jolt.

"Finally!" Spike heard himself say. 

No, wait. 

Not himself. 

The Spike from the other dimension. . . vampire Spike.

He shook his head and blinked. The night's cloak still surrounded them, and vampire Spike resumed talking, "I tried shouting at you, shaking you, shouting at you *and* shaking you. . ."

"Where'd you get the water?" Spike managed around a less violent cough. 

Demon Spike held up an empty Styrofoam cup that he'd found half-buried in the grass. "The creek a few hundred feet that way." He tilted his head to indicate the direction. 

"Ah." Spike struggled to his feet, noting the sodden state of his clothing and rubbing his sore shoulder. "Could've tried a less *wet* way to wake me up. How much water was in that little cup anyway?" Vampire Spike's face blurred, and Spike clung to a nearby tree trunk, the bark rough beneath his palms. Damned concussion. 

Spike could almost envision demon Spike rolling his eyes. "Not important. What *is* important is that Angel took Buffy away, and they have both pieces of the dimensional key."

The aftereffects of shock and the fading dizzy spell slowed Spike's processing. "Angel? Which one? And where'd they go?" He slowly let his support go and stood swaying on his own. "And what happened to the kranooks?" Not that he stood a chance in hell of surviving any more attacks at the moment.

"Gone. The Angel. . . from here. . . got rid of them with some sort of mind conditioning device. He, Lorne, and Wesley took off with Buffy and your Angel. They opened a portal, and they're returning Stephan's half of the dimensional key to Stephanie. At least, that's what I picked up on." 

"Bloody hell," Spike breathed out. 

"That's the understatement of the year."

"Why didn't you try to stop them?" The ground seemed to be hurtling toward his head.

Vampire Spike grabbed Spike by the arm before he fell. "By myself? With Angel having the powers of the kranooks to call down on me? I may be rash, but I'm not suicidal. . . and I had to lay low anyway. Angel here doesn't see me as much of a threat. Didn't need him seeing me differently."

"I have to find Buffy." Spike shook off his counterpart's assistance and staggered a few paces before realizing he had no idea which direction to go.

Demon Spike chuckled at Spike's attempts. "Follow me."

Spike was skeptical and took a step back. "Why should I trust you?"

The other Spike huffed in response, "Should I leave you stranded in the woods? I highly doubt you could make it out alive in your condition, what with kranooks lurking about."

Spike's stomach was starting to churn, and he began to pace nervously. "Look. I don't know how this world works. I can't differentiate the good guys from the bad. I know it's not black and white, but. . ." He trailed off and threw his arms out in disgust. "I just want to find Buffy and get back to the right dimension. At least, there I know what's real and what's not."

"You feel grossly inadequate here," vampire Spike surmised.

The statement was true for both of them. 

Spike's head dropped. "Yeah. I don't feel that way; I *am.* Being human isn't all it's cracked up to be in the fight against supernatural forces."

Demon Spike was silent for several seconds. Then, "Do you know why I've stuck around for so long. . . why I stayed around Angel and his cohorts after Buffy passed away?"

Spike said nothing and merely waited, noting that for the first time, his twin didn't sound jaded. . . just tired. . . as if he'd been at war with himself for a long while.

"I stayed because I know something weird is going on with Angel and the rest of them, and although I don't have a clue what it is, I want to make sure Celeste is safe. . .that she remains untouched by the darkness that surrounds them. Buffy. . . her mother. . . wouldn't want her to be tainted by evil."

Questions whirled in Spike's head, and he had trouble deciding which to ask first. "Why haven't you looked more into this hunch you had about Angel?"

Vampire Spike hesitated but finally answered, "For a long time, I've been the same way you are. . . never letting myself get too involved. Didn't feel worthy. Buffy didn't choose me, and she asked me to stay out of their business. So, I stuck to the edges, avoided direct confrontation, listened. Got involved only enough to know what was happening when. I have contacts in the firm. I knew when you and your Buffy arrived, and I knew you weren't *together*. . .not really. Angel here likes to keep me up-to-date about certain things. . . things he knows might affect me. I've lain low too long. Probably why I was so hard on you in the bar. Saw too much of myself in you." 

In the minimal light, the two Spikes exchanged understanding looks, and Spike found that he was beginning to trust his alter ego. 

The pounding in his head thrumming anew, he leaned sideways against the closest tree again. "I get that. And now's your chance to do something different." 

"And yours."

There was a heartbeat of mutual quiet.

"Got any ideas how we can get back to Vampire Villa?"

Spike's twin grinned, his teeth glowing white in the moonlight. "As a matter of fact. . ." He trailed off and bent to scoop something into the Styrofoam cup. "I do."

* * *

"The SIT Academy." Trying not to let his exhaustion show, Spike lifted an eyebrow at vampire Spike after he read the sign. "In Louisiana?"

Spike's counterpart shrugged. "There's a lot of supernatural activity in New Orleans."

"Creative name." Spike stared at the small professional sign with his arms crossed. 

"It does the trick. And most people think it's just one of those new age meditation, spa places. Come on in." Demon Spike held the door open for Spike, and they entered the tiny building together. 

"It's small." But, at least, the air conditioning was on max, and the carpet provided a cushion for his aching feet.

They were standing in a tiny one-room facility, neatly arranged with two desks arranged in a zigzag fashion so that the room was divided into two work areas. Hundreds of papers were taped up on every available wall. Soft yellow light bulbs gave the space an inviting aura, and a door in the back led to a set of narrow stairs. 

Vampire Spike tugged the door closed behind them. "This is just the office. There're training gyms and field operations in several areas throughout the city." He scooted past Spike and went to the foot of the staircase. Peering up, he called, "Jenn! You up there?" Pointing up, he explained in a quieter voice, "Supplies."

Spike nodded and heard a female voice with a strong Southern accent, "Spike, is that you?"

"Yeah, pet, it's me."

The voice got louder as Jenn descended the stairs. "Long time, no visit. You don't write; you don't call. What gives, Mister?" With the last syllable, a hand appeared, poking demon Spike in the chest with an index finger.

"Hey, now. I only get so much travel money. You know that."

"Whatever." A teenaged girl with short dark curls bounced into the office with a mischievous smile playing about her lips. Her eyes widened when she took stock of Spike. "What the hell?" She glared at demon Spike with accusing daggers in her eyes. "You didn't tell me that you had yourself cloned and turned all human!"

Vampire Spike held up his hands with his palms out. "I didn't want you to be disappointed in case it didn't work out. Where is everyone?"

Absently, Jenn replied, "Oh, out. . . training. . . the usual." She proceeded to stalk around Spike, looking him up and down as if he were a prize racehorse. "Hmmm. Hair out of place, clothes wrinkled, nasty gash on the head, circles under the eyes," she ticked off. Then, she spun on her heel. "You didn't do a very good job." With that, she gave the startled Spike a little hug and then hopped onto the nearby desk. Addressing Spike, she asked, "So, who are you, hun?"

Spike wasn't sure how to react, and then, he smirked. This little girl calling him "hun" reminded him of Dawn. Jenn was playful, but he was betting that she'd borne a lot of hardship. Most Slayers, even as Slayers-in-training, did. "Spike."

"Uh huh. And I'm Cindy Crawford." She cocked her head back to demon Spike. "This isn't a glamour?"

Spike's twin shook his head in amusement. "Nope."

"Okay, then." She tapped her cherry-colored lips with her forefinger, and to Spike's surprise, she was frighteningly accurate with her next observations, "Let's see. You're not a clone or a glamour. . . sooo you must be the Spike of another dimension. Aaand you're human, so you must have gotten Angel's shanshu. Man, I bet he was royally pissed."

Demon Spike came around the side of Jenn and put his arm around her in a brotherly fashion. Jenn swung her legs back and forth in response. "She's good, isn't she? I told you I had an 'in' in Angel's world." 

Jenn winked at Spike. "I provide services to them occasionally. Anything I run across that's fishy; I tell Spike here. And of course, usually Willow." 

"Uh huh," Spike commented. He wasn't sure what was more unreal: seeing someone who looked exactly like him interacting with a total stranger or witnessing his counterpart being overtly loving toward someone. "And how can she. . . you help us?"

"Well, in addition to being a second-year slayer trainee, Miss Jenn here is also a certified witch."

Jenn bobbed her head in agreement. "Trained by Willow Rosenberg herself. She discovered me when I was twelve; I was in an orphanage run by vampires. Willow and Spike rescued me. Now, what do y'all need help with?"

* * *

With the level of confidence that reminded Spike of teenaged Buffy, Jenn breezed into the packed demon bar, a hole-in-the-wall pub nestled in the darker part of New Orleans. Twin bleached blonde heads tailed her. She'd changed from cutoff shorts and a tiny t-shirt into black leather pants, boots, and a white tank top. 

She'd explained her outfit to the two Spikes who had threatened to send her to put on a muumuu. "Now, we're going to see someone who can help you two. He likes leather. I tend to placate him when I need something from him."

And that had ended the conversation. 

Spike was grateful that her careful preparations had given him time to shower and clean up, eat something, and take a brief nap. He'd been energized and was ready to knock down whole armies to rescue Buffy and Angel. . . his world's Angel. And vampire Spike had raided the SIT Academy's storage for weapons and leather of their own. Spike now had three beautifully carved stakes concealed on his personage, and the crisp smell of leather gave him an edge that he'd thought he lost somewhere during the current mission. 

Now he was in the demon bar with his other self and a young witch, and he was feeling his confidence return. Demons of all types gave him the once over, but he didn't even blink. Just let them try to dust him. He was ready. 

Jenn slapped both hands on the bar. "Okay, Charles. I need to speak to L'Gant."

Spike immediately recognized the name, and his blood sang. This was just getting better and better. 

Charles slung the white towel in his hand to one side. "You sure about that, Jennie?"

She jutted her chin up. "I am."

"Even after last time?"

"Even after."

Charles looked doubtful. "Okay, if that's what you want."

"Yep, it's what I want." She pulled herself onto the barstool in front of her. "Don't mind if I help myself to an olive or two." She reached back and snagged a handful of green olives, popping one in her mouth.

Demon Spike leaned over her shoulder, "L'Gant, you said?"

Jenn smiled, her jaw working over an olive. "Uh huh."

Spike's twin grew his own smile and glanced at Spike who couldn't resist, "Poker game L'Gant?"

"The one and only," a voice boomed from behind them. 

Spike surveyed L'Gant's massive form with a little bit too much disdain. This demon could kill him with a flick of his wrist. . . now. Of course, first, L'Gant had to catch him. "Well, well, well, looks like the infamous L'Gant's put on a few extra pounds."

"All muscle," L'Gant growled. He glared at Spike with his two pairs of violent eyes. "Looks like you got yourself a soul and a bit of humanity. Makes you weak." He noted demon Spike. "Hmm. Two Spikes. And another with a soul but still demon. You either got yourself split in half. . .or. . ." He frowned at Jenn with a thin, twisted grey mouth, eyes narrowing. "Is this your doing, witch?" 

"Nope." Jenn sounded too perky as she leaned back on her elbows.

He looked down his nose at her. "You know, I haven't forgotten what you did to me last time you entered this bar."

"Oh, yeah? Remind me."

The giant demon snarled, "Gladly." And with that, he lunged at the trio, looking like he was ready to rip them apart.

* * *

What happened to Buffy and Angel? Stay tuned to find out where they are! Next chapter! ;o) 


	14. Chapter 13

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 13_**

"There's no place like home; there's no place like home; there's no place like home." 

Buffy opened her eyes. Damn. It didn't work. 

She was in the same dark world. . .

. . . In the same dark prison cell with a dirt floor, damp walls, a very leaky ceiling, no windows, and no toilet. 

No toilet!!! 

That was probably because the cells weren't made to incarcerate humans.

Stephanie's world sucked.

And Angel. . . her Angel slept in blissful unconsciousness, unaware of the horrors going on around his resting body. She wished that she could wake him. Maybe he would have a better idea about how to get them out of this. To top it off, she had no clue what had happened to Spike. 

Some trio of strength they were. 

"You know, pumpkin, no matter how many times you might decide to try and do that, it's not gonna work." 

Buffy turned to face Lorne who sat a few feet away from her barred cell with the keys dangling from the tips of his fingers. She could swear that she saw something akin to empathy in his eyes. Following her intuition, she reached her hand toward him. "It would if you would just hand me the keys. We'd be out of your hair in no time. Well, as fast as possible, considering I'd have to carry Angel."

Lorne wagged a finger back and forth. His voice was soft and gentle. "No way, kiddo. No can do." 

Buffy sighed. "You know something?"

"What's that?" Lorne leaned his large frame forward in the chair, resting his forearms on his thighs. His red-tinged horns were a striking contrast against the strident green of his skin. He was intrigued by this other Buffy.

"I don't know Lorne very well in my world, but I don't think he's evil. In fact, I'm pretty sure he isn't."

Lorne seemed genuinely surprised, leaning back a little and swinging the keys into his palm. "How do you know that I'm evil?"

"Hmmm. Let me think of what might have led me to that conclusion. Where am I again? Oh, yeah! In a prison cell with you standing guard over me with the keys! And what is it you're doing? Let's see. Conspiring with Stephanie who's only the evil vampire who wants to bring a whole city of vampires into my home dimension."

"Look, little one. We're just doing what's best for our dimension. That's always been our primary concern." Lorne's expression suggested that he had more to say, but the door to the prison area of Stephanie's headquarters hissed open. 

The sound of high heels clumped dully against the unpaved floor. A tall, slight vampiress with long dark hair and delicate features approached the cell. She was dressed in white leather pants and a matching jacket with sleeves that tapered to accentuate her narrow wrists. Buffy compared her to Drusilla and concluded that Drusilla had a softness that this creature would probably never possess. 

"Lorne." She held out her hand, and the green Pylean slapped the keys in her outstretched hand.

"Hey," popped out of Buffy's mouth before she could stop herself. 

Lorne gave her a sympathetic shrug as if they were on the playground and he was saying, "Sorry, but I don't play with you."

As the vampiress worked with the keys, Buffy ran over strategies in her head. How could she attack the vampiress, knock her and Lorne out, and escape with Angel? 

Her brain betrayed her, and she came up empty. How many years had she fought demons and the forces of evil, and now she was blanking? No fair.

So, Buffy did the next best thing she knew. She tackled the vampiress with all the energy she could muster, using the momentum from her efforts to roll away before her target could get a firm grasp on her. She bounced to her feet, whirled, and kicked her enemy to the ground. 

The vampiress responded by bringing a long leg up to catch Buffy in the mid-section and force her across the room to slam into the closest wall. Buffy pulled herself up just in time to block the fist coming at her face, and she ducked under the vampiress's arm as it contacted the wall.   
  
The vampiress swore, hugging her fist to her chest and turned to face Buffy. "Wait!" she shouted when Buffy almost sprang at her again.

Fists raised and legs in her comfortable fighting stance, Buffy's eyes glinted in anger. "Why should I?"

"Because I'm here to help Angel."

"Whatever." Buffy glanced back at Lorne who was hovering in the background with a grim expression on his face. She could take the both of them if she had to.

"You want to know why he's unconscious, don't you?" The vampiress was holding a hand up as if trying to talk down a rabid dog. 

And still, not a hair was out of place.

Buffy hesitated, her heart hammering. Angel had been unconscious an awfully long time. . . too long. He definitely needed some sort of assistance; something she couldn't give. She couldn't count how many times in the last hours she'd gone over every inch of his body and been unable to detect any injuries. 

Not relaxing her guard, she acquiesced, "Okay."

The vampiress didn't waste another second, striding past Buffy as if she wasn't present. She knelt beside Angel's prone form and put her hand on his chest for several seconds. "Hmmm. Nothing."

"I could have told you that," Buffy grumbled. 

The vampiress ignored her and rose, facing Lorne. "Send her in."

Lorne nodded and headed for the doors, leaving Buffy alone with the vampiress who turned to regard Buffy.

"I'm Stephanie."

"I figured," Buffy said even though she hadn't been sure. "I don't like you."

The vampiress's brown eyes were steady on Buffy's green ones. "I know."

The door hissed open again, and Lorne re-entered with a slight female figure in tow. Buffy wasn't shocked by the new presence. In fact, she didn't know if anything could surprise her anymore.

"Roxy," she said, not bothering to keep the irony out of her tone.

"Hello, Buffy." The tall blonde smiled almost shyly, tucking a blonde strand behind her ear. "Heard you have a patient."

Buffy lowered her guard enough to cross her arms. "You heard that, huh? How long have you been working both sides of the fence?" 

Roxy didn't reply and merely lifted one corner of her mouth before turning for Angel. With grace, she lowered herself next to his unconscious body, her hair a swath of gold dangling over his face. Buffy felt a twinge of jealousy at the way Roxy was touching Angel's body. 

After a few seconds, she announced, "I found it."

Stephanie hovered at Roxy's side. "What?"

Roxy kept her gaze on Angel's thigh and at the tiny tear in his pants. "Looks like the kranooks are biting again."

"Damn it."

"What's going on?" Buffy demanded despite her precarious position.

Stephanie regarded Buffy. "One of the kranooks bit him in that little encounter you had. They bite, inflicting their poison. The kranooks' saliva seals the wound. The only indication that there is anything wrong is an extended period of unconsciousness."

"Science can't detect the poison. Only magicks can," Roxy added, running her open hand over Angel's leg in what Buffy could swear was a seductive manner.

Buffy glared at Roxy even though the vampiress wasn't making eye contact. "So, what's the cure?"

"Cure?" Stephanie laughed. The sound was melodious. On any other day, Buffy would have called the vampiress beautiful. "Why should we cure him?"

Buffy was pointblank, "Because you're dead if you don't." 

Stephanie laughed harder. "I highly doubt that." She brushed Roxy's hair off her shoulders, making Buffy wonder about their relationship. "But we have plans for him. So, he will be cured."

That wasn't what Buffy expected to hear. "Okay. Well, that's good," she said uncertainly.

Roxy nodded. "It is."

Buffy thought she detected another meaning behind Roxy's words, but she couldn't fathom what it was. Buffy didn't know when she'd encountered a group of people who had more secrets. 

But Buffy didn't have a chance to ask. . . not in front of Lorne and certainly not in front of Stephanie. She wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating Stephanie.

So, Buffy covered her silent exchange with Roxy before the vampiress could detect anything. "So, what will you do?"

Stephanie snapped her fingers. "Lorne."

Lorne poked his head into the cell, pretending as if he hadn't witnessed the entire exchange. "Hmm?"

"Carry Angel to my infirmary."

Lorne didn't argue, and Buffy kept her eyes on Angel as Lorne hefted his unmoving body. 

Buffy suddenly felt terrified that she'd never see Angel again. "Can I come?"

Pausing in the doorway to the cell, Stephanie regarded her with amusement. "I suppose you want out of the cell."

"Well, duh," Buffy replied with a little too much sarcasm. She'd better watch her impulsive tendencies in the future. 

Stephanie narrowed her eyes but implied permission with her next words, "You should know that if you make a move to escape, there will be hundreds of vampires upon you before you have a chance to make it to the threshold."

Buffy knew the statement was true. "Yes."

But she also knew she'd faced worse odds.

* * *

Evil Lorne positioned Angel's body on the silver bed jutting up from the center of the tiled floor. 

With a trained eye, Buffy took in her surroundings.

The stark white room was empty except for a blank countertop, a tiny cabinet, and a silver bed with no padding. A white door was almost indistinguishable against the far wall, and a two-way mirror next to the door reflected the fluorescent lights from above. Vampires dressed in white lined the walls, pointed wooden stakes on metal sticks cradled in their arms. Although their faces were impassive, Buffy thought she recognized some of them from the battle in Stephan's domain, but she couldn't be sure.

Human facial features tended to be distorted beneath the vampire mask, and when fighting, everything was a blur to Buffy. Slaying was kind of like driving. At first, one paid attention to every detail on the road, but as one became more proficient at driving, the brain tended to neglect the nonessential details like the color of the car in the right lane. The same occurred with vampire features. Buffy didn't tend to pay attention to anything but the fact that a vampire died with a stake in the heart. That worked fine in Sunnydale and Cleveland cemeteries. 

But she should really learn to pay better attention, especially if she was going to get captured by a huge faction of evil vampires in the largest, and only, inter-dimensional vampire city. 

Eyeing the smallest of the vampires, she decided that she could overtake him easily and wrestle his stake away. Then, escape was just a matter of fighting off hundreds of demons and carrying a very ill Angel out of Stephanie's facility. . . something she was completely clueless about. What had she seen on the way from her cell to this room? Not much but closed doors and dark hallways branching out in every direction.

Oh, and she'd have to fight her way through most of the city. Her only ally. . .if she could call Stephan an ally. . . was now the resident of a dustpan. Stephanie could call on any vampire to do her bidding; all she had to do was snap her slender fingers. Plus, there was the little problem of the kranooks and the fact that Stephanie now possessed the entire dimensional key.

Buffy was in big trouble, and she and Stephanie both knew it.

But that didn't mean Buffy would go down without a fight.

Buffy squared her shoulders and donned her best Willow resolve face.

A chuckle rose from the doorway. Buffy turned toward the source of the noise. Stephanie gave her a condescending smile.

"Don't even think it. I have plans for you, too. And you'd never make it out of here alive."

Buffy's fists clinched. "Don't bet on it. I've survived worse."

"Ah, well, there will be no witch tinkering with dark magicks to bring you back from the dead this time. I'd make sure it was a natural death and not a supernatural one. But hopefully, I won't have to. I'd really like to have you working for me."

Before Buffy could retort that she'd never consent to such a union, Roxy appeared at the vampiress's elbow. "Is the room ready?"

Stephanie made way for Roxy, who gave Buffy a pointed glance that she couldn't read. Could Roxy still be on her side? She had, after all, taken away Spike's demon disguise for some reason, and she'd been the head of Stephan's little vampire domestication project, no matter how horrific it had been. Buffy wasn't sure, but she would darn well take advantage of the possibility.

As Roxy busied herself with some sort of herbs and a large book at the countertop, a vampire dressed in black with a yellow bandanna hurried up to Stephanie, panting even though he didn't need to breathe as if he had been running a long way. He bent over at the waist, gripping the tops of his thighs.

Stephanie was annoyed. "What is it, Ryan?" Buffy noted that she knew the vampire's name, the mark of a good leader.

"We tried to stop them," he managed as if that would explain everything.

"What do you mean?" Stephanie asked. "I'm busy here. Can't this wait until later?"

"T-the kranooks."

The vampiress was instantly alert, and Buffy caught the crack in her confident demeanor. Yep, there was definitely weakness, and Buffy's hope soared. Maybe she had a fighting chance after all.

"What happened?" Stephanie's voice was lower.

"T-they're attacking the city."

"Damn it!" Stephanie cursed for the second time with regard to her demonic creations. "I thought I told you to set up the magick pools to distract them until we figured out how to contain them."

"We did. We really did. I swear. But they aren't. . . ." The vampire paused as if trying to find a word that wouldn't offend his mistress. "They weren't fooled this time. A-and they attacked the city. We sent out three divisions, and they were all slaughtered. They're burning the east side of the city as we speak. The streets are a mass of confusion, and riots are starting to break out. They sense the source, and they're coming for it."

Buffy was confused and asked without thinking, "Source?"

The minion was ignorant of Buffy's position as prisoner and explained, "The complete dimensional key. They want it."

"So say all of us," she muttered under her breath.

Stephanie cleared her throat to declare that she was still in charge. "Okay, Ryan, let's go. We'll handle this. We've dealt with similar situations."

The minion's face was tight with fear and exhaustion. "But not on this sc. . ."

She cut him off, "We'll handle it." She turned to Buffy with a saccharine-filled smile. "I wanted to witness this, but I have other business to attend to. I'll just enjoy the results."

Buffy was rattled. "What results?"

Almost gleefully, Stephanie replied, "You haven't figured it out yet? Roxy is going to cure Angel, and then, she's going to take his soul. Human Angel is useful, but he's not as powerful as Angelus, and well, I'm growing a bit tired of human Angel's whining. And what would be better than a Slayer-turned-demon at his side?"

"You're a fool. You can't control Angelus. . .just like you can't control your kranooks. Your little kingdom is falling apart around you."

Stephanie arched an eyebrow. "Don't be so sure about that."

And with that, she swept out of the white room, heels clicking confidently against the tiles and vampire messenger in tow. 

Buffy's stomach sank. For the first time, she let herself think that maybe Stephanie was right. Buffy's thoughts flashed to Spike. 

He might be their last hope.

TBC. . . 

***Thanks so much for all the feedback! I'm really busy right now, filling out internship applications, but your feedback is keeping me working on the story, too, so thank you! What do you guys think? Mad at me yet? Stay tuned. . . double Spikes next chappie! Hope you enjoy!


	15. Chapter 14

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_Chapter 14_**

****

L'Gant was on top of Jenn before either Spike could react. 

For such a large demon, he moved pretty quickly, and Spike reassessed his opinion of him. Apparently, L'Gant had been working on his sluggish tendencies since Spike had last seen him. As the two Spikes leaped at L'Gant, Spike's ears detected a familiar and surprising sound from Jenn.

And it was far from the screams that he expected.

Both Spikes stopped short, stumbling from their own momentum as they did so.

Jenn was hunched over and laughing wildly as the demon's fingers danced over her ribcage. "S-stop!" she managed.

Spike exchanged an astonished look with demon Spike and then, with a smiling Charlie who was calmly mixing more drinks. He glanced at the other bar patrons. Most were ignoring the spectacle although a few afforded the situation a fleeting look before returning to their drinks and small talk.

"No!" L'Gant continued tickling the helpless Jenn until she was gasping.

"P-please!" she begged, sinking to her knees on the dirty bar floor and attempting to push his arms away. The effort proved futile.

"Magic words," L'Gant demanded with affection in his voice.

"N-no! No m-magic!"

L'Gant moved to tickle her legs and neck. "Yes."

Spike tensed further. Was L'Gant attempting to hurt Jenn? He couldn't tell. He could hardly see Jenn underneath the demon's massive body.

"F-fine!" she replied, sounding almost like she was in pain.

L'Gant immediately ceased his tickling and stood back, crossing his arms. "Okay. I give in. Now. . . magic words!"

Jenn peered up at the demon with her lower lip sticking out. "Fine. I'll bring you the kittens I owe you next time we play."

L'Gant was doubtful. "That's what you said last time."

"I kn. . ."

Spike couldn't stand in silence any longer. His disbelief was stronger than L'Gant's, and his expression showed it. "What? You play poker with him?"

"Apparently," demon Spike answered. He was less surprised than Spike, but then, he knew Jenn better than Spike.

"Of course!" L'Gant sounded annoyed. 

"Why?" Spike asked Jenn who was struggling to stand, still reeling a bit from the tickle session. 

"B-because it's fun!" she replied. 

"And *she* actually plays fair and settles her debts. . .most of the time," L'Gant added, looking pointedly at Jenn.

"Well. . . most of the time I play fair," Jenn corrected, accepting vampire Spike's assistance in steadying herself. "I find it fun to play with demon rules. Helps me understand them. Kitten poker is a fascinating part of demon culture." She caught Spike's incredulity. "I study demon culture. I guess you could say I want to eventually be a demon anthropologist of sorts." 

Demon Spike shook his head as if he knew Jenn all too well. "I never know what you're going to get into next, pet." 

She grinned at him. "I know! Like to keep you on your toes."

"And that you do. You're worse than Dawn." He smiled at her, his eyes softening. Spike's thoughts flashed to the Dawn of his dimension. All he knew of her was that she was studying archaeology at university. Regret seized him. He wished he had kept up with her better. His counterpart had done a better job of maintaining his ties with her. 

"Well, you know her studies inspired me." 

"Looks like it." 

Raising his large hand, L'Gant interrupted their exchange, not with words but by closing his meaty fingers around demon Spike's throat and slamming him against the top of the bar. Again, the bar regulars didn't even flinch. They were probably used to L'Gant's shenanigans.

Licking his lips as if relishing the sign of aggression, Vampire Spike laughed in L'Gant's face. "Was wondering when you were going to do that."

Spike took that as a cue to move, and he leapt at L'Gant, jerking him back and attempting to throw him to the ground. However, the demon's mass was too great, and Spike only succeeded in tugging him back from his twin. L'Gant's hands remained twisted in the other's clothes. 

Demon Spike grabbed L'Gant's hand, snatching one of Charlie's drinks and throwing it in the demon's face. L'Gant hissed as the alcohol began burning his eyes, and he loosened his hold on vampire Spike to bring his hands to his face. The two Spikes then wrestled the demon into a chair at a nearby, vacant table. One of them punched L'Gant in the nose to keep him from struggling too hard. 

L'Gant raised both legs before either Spike had a chance to dodge, and he sent his assailants flying in opposite directions. Spike crashed into a table occupied by a couple of vampires who slid into vamp mask as he broke their table. 

Spike groaned at the wood digging into his flesh. For once, he was glad he wasn't a vampire any longer. "Sorry to interrupt your cocktails," he apologized without feeling much sympathy for them. Ignoring the pain shooting through his muscles, he bounced to his feet and sprang back toward L'Gant who was headed his way. . . it didn't matter that his foe was three times his weight and four times as strong. 

The vampires he disrupted looked as if they wanted to snap his neck, but their eyes lingered on L'Gant. They obviously didn't want to interfere with L'Gant's business, and they hurried to join the now retreating customers. Maybe they weren't used to L'Gant's fights causing this much of a ruckus. 

L'Gant was headed toward Demon Spike who was lying in a heap near the wall. The vampire was slow in getting to his feet, tentatively touching his wounded head. Blood welled between his fingers, and a curse slipped from his lips.

Using his body as a miniature torpedo, Spike tackled L'Gant at the center of his back, causing the demon to stagger forward. 

Growling, L'Gant whirled on Spike, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Spike thought the wall might crumble behind him with the amount of force L'Gant used to smash him against the plaster with his calcium-filled breastplate. L'Gant's breath smelled of the raw flesh that he regularly ingested. 

"Hey!" Jenn waved a finger and used magicks to throw a tray of half-empty glasses to the ground. The shattering glass disrupted the flow of the fight, and the two Spikes and L'Gant stared at her. Jenn frowned at them, hands on her hips. "You done with the macho crap now?"

Spike's twin smirked from his position on the floor. He braced himself against the wall as he stood. "We're barely getting started, love."

"Well, stop *now.* We *are* actually here to get L'Gant's help, not beat him to a pulp. I don't know what happened between the two of. . . er, among the three of you, but I don't appreciate being dragged in the middle of it when all I'm trying to do is help."

L'Gant didn't release Spike, but he seemed curious. "What could these vermin want bad enough to come to *me* for help?"

Neither Spike said a word. 

Demon Spike didn't because he was stubborn, but Spike didn't because he couldn't get enough air to make an audible sound. 

Jenn changed tactics and appealed to L'Gant, "Let Spike go. Let him go, or I'll start breaking things, and you don't want that."

"A little late for that, pet," demon Spike observed, nodding to the glass shards and alcohol-drenched ground. 

Jenn glared.

Spike gathered the small amount of air he had left and whispered, "B-buffy."

Startled at the sound, L'Gant stepped back.

Clutching at his throat, Spike gasped for air but uttered, "We need your help to find Buffy."

Confusion crossed L'Gant's face. "The Slayer? She's dead."

The emotional pain that Spike felt at L'Gant's words was sharper than any physical pain than his rival could inflict. Spike sought vampire Spike whose eyes were cloudy with his own hurt. 

His twin's voice was hoarse and low, "He means the Buffy here."

Jenn was calmer with her next words, trying to move the conversation away from the obvious source of the two Spikes' pain, "What happened between you two. . . er, three?"

Before anyone could respond, the door to the now vacated bar slammed open. All eyes flew to the blond in the doorway. "I did."

L'Gant growled and said with an angry hiss, "Harmony."

Demon Spike snorted and muttered, "Things just keep getting more interesting."

Her hair up in a tight bun instead of loose over her shoulders and a grim expression on her face, Harmony trotted into the bar, and an entourage of vampires dressed in solid black filed in behind her, arms filled with crossbows and sulphur-tipped arrows. . . the only element that could kill demons of L'Gant's variety. 

"Hello, Gantie." With her hands behind her back, she circled the demon with a confidence Spike had seen her possess only once. . . when she kicked him out of their bed with a stake. "Long time, no see."

"No skin off my breast plate. I'm guessing you aren't with this idiot anymore."

Harmony rolled her eyes. "Please! I wouldn't be with him if someone *paid* me."

"Why the change of heart, Harmony?" L'Gant asked, remaining calm despite the imminence of his situation. "You certainly didn't mind it before."

Looking down her nose at the two Spikes, Harmony narrowed her eyes, "It's different now." Her chin lifted. "*I'm* different. He. . . they. . .you didn't appreciate me like Michael. He believes in me. . . believes I have something to offer the world other than twisted sex games." 

"You need to get a new tune, love," Demon Spike commented from Jenn's side.

Harmony clenched her jaw at his words. "And I have a mission now."

L'Gant jumped to conclusions, "So you're here to exact your revenge on me?" 

She regarded L'Gant as if he were stupid. "Um, no. I'm here for the, er. . . Spikes."

"Then, what's with all the weapons in my bar? You can have them." L'Gant took the opportunity to shove the still recovering Spike forward. 

"Hey!" Spike managed. 

"I'm not here to kill them," Harmony clarified. "I'm just here to get them to help."

"Help you what, Harm?" Spike asked, rubbing his throat and giving her his most helpless expression. 

Harmony threw her arms up as if she couldn't believe how inane his question was. "Well, duh! Help me get the Slayer out of Stephanie's fortress! We have to stop Stephanie. She's destroying everything Stephan and Michael worked for!"

His heart nearly stopped. Buffy was with Stephanie. . . a prisoner in Stephanie's fortress. Finally, he had some bit of information to grasp onto. Spike found himself offering Harmony a genuine smile. Maybe he hadn't given her enough credit in the past. 

Spike's sudden warmth toward her took Harmony aback, and she returned his smile.

"Wait a minute." Demon Spike stepped forward. "How did you say you got here? And how do you know where his Buffy is?"

"Stephan has spies in Stephanie's lair. He wasn't stupid. She had them spying on him, too."

"How did you cross dimensions?" Vampire Spike repeated.

Spike saw them standing in the shadowed doorway behind Harmony's vampires before anyone else did. "Kranooks. Stephan said they escaped across the dimensions." 

"That's right." Michael emerged from the crowd and joined Harmony, his arm circling around her waist and drawing her close. A jagged cut sliced down his cheek, and his clothes were torn and dirty, but he was smiling. "Just because Stephanie treats the kranooks like slaves doesn't mean they're stupid. Forming an alliance really wasn't that hard." 

As Michael touched the wound on his face, Spike heard a faint slithering in the background reminiscent of the battle in the forest. Spike shivered in remembrance of the fray. Even with Buffy and Angel at his side, he'd felt inadequate to fight off the hordes. After killing one or two, he had been so tired that he could scarcely stand. If he had been alone, he would have been killed. A fight with the kranooks wasn't something he wanted to repeat. 

When Spike re-focused, Michael was still talking, "It took some. . . negotiation, but I wish we'd have done it sooner."

"Right." Harmony beamed, not taking her eyes off Michael. "I'm so proud of you, honey." She deposited a kiss on his lips. 

The youthful vampire gave L'Gant the once over. "This him?"

Harmony nodded childishly. "Uh huh."

"Okay." He snapped his fingers at the mini-horde of vampires and kranooks behind him. "Kill him. Tear him to pieces."

The demons hoisted their weapons, and L'Gant bellowed, "Wait!"

Harmony sniffed and moved away from Michael's embrace. "What?"

"I thought you weren't here to kill me." The vampires aimed their crossbows at L'Gant. 

"Well." She waited a heartbeat. "Maybe I changed my mind. A girl has a right to change her mind, you know?"

"Wait!" Spike and Jenn shouted at the same time. 

Harmony sighed dramatically but held up her hand. The vampires lowered their weapons. She faced the Spikes and Jenn with a little pout threatening to take over. "Whaaat? Can't you people see I'm trying to have someone killed here? And he's someone who did something *bad.*"

"He's my friend," Jenn stated, pushing vampire Spike's restraining hand off her arm and moving to stand between L'Gant and the attackers.

Harmony's expression softened, and she explained, "Look. You don't know what he did to me. If he did to you what he did to me, then you'd want him dead, too."

"That may be true. But he's been nothing but good to me." She frowned thoughtfully. "Just out of curiosity, what *did* he do to you?"

Spike sensed the warmth exchanged by the two females as Harmony told her story, "When I was first turned into a vampire. . . you know, vamped. . . I was really really vulnerable. I didn't know the first thing about being a good vampire because my sire. . . the vampire who made me. . . sort of, well, abandoned me. I hooked up with the first demon who would take me in, and he sucked me in with all sorts of promises about New Orleans and love and sugary stuff." Harmony's lower lip trembled at the memory.

Jenn cast L'Gant a dismayed look. "Go on," she urged Harmony.

"And well, he lied to me. He didn't take care of me at all. He made me dress in skimpy outfits and wear chains and sleep with his demon buddies whenever he lost a bet in a poker game. He was absolutely *addicted* to gambling. He even. . .even. . ." Harmony's eyes flickered to Spike who nodded his assent. "He even bet me in a poker game with Spike once. It was after Droodzilla cheated on Spike, and he came back to the States."

Spike couldn't bring himself to look at Jenn. He was afraid of her disappointment, much as he was afraid of Dawn's. He couldn't imagine how demon Spike, who was closer to Jenn, must be feeling. 

Gesturing with her hands, Harmony continued, "And Spike won me from L'Gant. Well, Spike cheated because he used a card from another deck. L'Gant obviously didn't like that, so he attacked us, a-and we barely escaped with our unlives. Of course, Spike didn't treat me much better. . . ." She trailed off and bowed her head. Michael re-positioned his arm around her shoulders and wiped away the tear trickling down her cheek.

The only audible sound was the intimidating noise of the kranooks in the background.

"But demons can. . .*do* change. And it doesn't mean we should destroy a creature who could potentially help us in the upcoming fight against Stephanie," Spike interjected, sidling up beside Jenn. He couldn't see L'Gant's reaction to his statement, but he knew the demon was probably shocked. 

Harmony's mouth opened as if she had something else to say, but Michael spoke before she could, "I hate to admit it, but he's right. We'll need all the help we can get."

"But what if I don't want. . .," L'Gant began. 

"Shut up, L'Gant," Jenn shushed him out of the corner of her mouth, not bothering to hide her disappointment in him.

Harmony surveyed the exchange, glanced at Michael's ragged appearance, and assented with obvious reluctance, "Okay. But. One condition." She raised a finger at L'Gant. "Don't come near me, or you *will* be dead."

"Great!" Demon Spike said cheerfully from where he was leaning against the bar. "Now that we have that all settled, let's go rescue Peaches and the Slayer."

"And kill Stephanie," Michael appended.

Spike's thoughts went to Buffy, and an image of her bright green eyes and vibrant smile touched his heart. What had his trans-dimensional counterpart suggested? Could it be that because she chose him in his dimension that he actually had a chance with her? Fear that she was already dead settled in his chest, but he covered it with a quiet determination. 

They would find Buffy alive and defeat Stephanie, and this time, he wouldn't waste three years waiting for Buffy to get done baking. He'd just turn up the heat.

TBC. . . Next up Buffy and. . . Angelus! Thanks again for the wonderful feedback! *HUGS*!!! :o)

You may have noticed something different about this chapter! :o) It's a lot better because I now have a fabulous beta reader! So, *big hugs* to Sandy (yep, another one…lol) for helping me smooth out the rough patches and making me think! :o) I'm so happy to have a beta!


	16. Chapter 15

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S. 

**_ Chapter 15_**

"Stephanie doesn't know what she's talking about."

Buffy absorbed Roxy's words as her mind worked over the precarious situation in which she was immersed, searching for any cracks in the bad guys' plans. Stephanie had gone to check up on the situation with the kranooks and the riots breaking out across Vampire Villa, leaving Buffy with Roxy. Buffy stood apart from her, keeping an eye on the vampires lining the walls while watching the vampiress-witch prepare her supplies. . . supplies that would take Angel's soul from him. 

When he awoke from his poison-induced slumber, a vicious monster would be in the place of Angel's heroic spirit. And Angelus would be another weapon in Stephanie's arsenal. Buffy felt a little numb at the thought. She wasn't sure she was ready to deal with something she hadn't had to face since she was a teenager. 

The memories of Angelus's twisted mind games and brutal murder of Jenny frightened her. . . made her experience a physical and emotional vulnerability she had not dealt with in a long time. She hated the feeling and had taken great pains to avoid it since then. She knew that Angel had voluntarily lost his soul a second time about four years ago, and she was grateful Willow had restored him before she had to witness it. Even now, she couldn't bring herself to view Angel lying on the pallet alone. 

Being faced with the helplessness again and trying to contain it made her irritable.

"Explain," she demanded. Buffy moved closer to Roxy as she ran a slender finger over the words in what looked like one of Giles's ancient spell books. 

Roxy nibbled on her lower lip as she concentrated on the text, and after a heartbeat, she explained, "Well, for one thing, the spell to cure the kranooks' poison only works on individuals without souls. And to cure Angel, his soul has to be removed."

"Oh." 

Roxy began mashing herbs together using a marble mortar and pestle. "And Stephanie doesn't know what she's getting herself into. . . even though she should since she read many of the Watchers' accounts of Angelus."

Buffy eyed Stephanie's vampires who remained unmoving behind them. "You should be careful what you say."

Roxy was strangely calm, and Buffy still couldn't fathom her motives. Was she a wild card in this whole mess? "I'm not worried," the vampiress replied.

Buffy couldn't help herself. "Little vampires have big ears. . . and big mouths."

"But little brains." The corners of Roxy's lips quirked, and Buffy could tell she was holding back a grin. "Be patient. I have to take Angel's soul to cure him. Afterwards, you'll see."

"See what?" Buffy was past tired of Roxy's hide and seek games.

Roxy didn't answer but reached to the left of the counter, opening the door to a small room. "Go ahead. It'll be just a few minutes. The room will keep your soul safe from the spell I'm casting."

Buffy studied Roxy's eyes and saw something there that she couldn't describe. It was enough to make her invest temporary trust in the vampiress and step into the tiny room. As she stood behind the two-way mirror, the door clicked shut behind her.

The room only had space for a small chair, but Buffy couldn't bring herself to sit. Instead, she stared at the scene unfolding before her with a curious sense of detachment. This couldn't be happening. . . could it? 

Facing the two-way mirror, Roxy raised her arms over the prone form of Angel and began reciting the words of a spell. Her voice started low and deep in her throat and gradually rose until it sounded inhuman. Some unseen force took over her arms, and her limbs jerked spasmodically as sparks crackled over her forearms and lit the dark, flat blackness that had overtaken the whites of her eyes. 

Buffy felt something tug hard in the inner depths of her being as if her essence was being scooped out of her. Was this what it was like to have her soul removed? Dizziness overtook her, and she felt her spirit fighting to maintain control of her body. In desperation, she clutched the frame of the two-way mirror to keep from collapsing.

With one last, high-pitched syllable that Buffy thought would split her skull, Roxy brought her hands to Angel's chest, and Buffy felt the pull evaporate.

Primitive, unearthly power rushed into Angel's body, swirling over his mid-section and spreading over his arms and legs as if they were digging something out of him. . . something that didn't want to give. Then, Angel's body jolted up from the table, and a rush of glowing energy ripped up from his abdomen and vanished within the space of an instant.

Roxy fell backward, landing unceremoniously on her behind in a wave of blond hair and long limbs, her face a mask of pain and exhaustion. 

Her equilibrium returning, Buffy stared, still feeling as if she were watching something on a movie screen. She blinked once, and the scene shifted.

Angel stirred on the table, and as he moved, his face contorted into his vampire mask. He sat up lazily and shook his head like a panther that was stretching after a long nap. When his eyes opened, they were golden and. . . empty. With a roar, he leapt from the table, aiming his previously caged might at Stephanie's vampires.

They swept into action, and Roxy had the presence of mind to back away from the scene and remain low to the ground. She inched closer to the tiny room where Buffy hid. 

Buffy couldn't remove her eyes from Angelus. He tore into the vampires like they were stuffed animals filled with organs and muscle. Even when she'd fought Angelus in the past, Buffy had never seen such violence. Being contained must have done something to the demon. . . made it fiercer. Blood from ripped throats and limbs bathed the white room in a sea of red. 

Buffy almost didn't hear the scratching sound at the door, but it persisted and got louder. Feeling like she was moving through a sea of mud, Buffy strained to focus on the sound and tugged open the door. 

Roxy spilled into the room, but Buffy barely noticed. The colors and sounds of the scene before her were now more vibrant and strident, and she couldn't remove her eyes from the violence. 

Angelus swung a clawed hand at the closest of the remaining vampires. The youthful red-haired demon had dropped his weapon and shifted out of his crinkled face in a desperate attempt at gaining mercy from his out-of-control attacker. Angelus's fingers dug into the flesh of the vampire's neck, and licking his lips, he laughed as he ripped the throat from its thin casing. Blood swam down his wrist, and he licked it up with flourish. Angelus kicked the now limp body out of the way and grinned at the feeble attempt his next attacker made at staking him.

With his free hand, Angelus twisted the long stake in the vampire's hands, making him stumble forward. Angelus snatched up the opportunity and landed a forceful kick to the vampire's abdomen, sending him sprawling to the ground. Angelus straddled his prey and reached down, snapping his neck with a laugh. 

Then, his eyes landed on Buffy who stood paralyzed in the doorway with a weak Roxy at her feet.

Picking his way over the bodies blocking his path, he slid on his human front and strode toward Buffy, smirking. "Buffy. What a lovely gift."

Buffy simply stared. . . too much in shock to form one of her witty comments in response. She vaguely heard Roxy pulling herself off the ground to stand beside her. 

"Cat got your tongue?" he asked, wiping his bloodstained hand across his mouth, letting his mouth hang open like an animal. "Maybe I can help you with that. Loosen you up a bit."

Buffy's eyes were wide in horror, and she let them slip from Angelus's visage to the moving vampire near his calf. Angelus's grin grew, and he stomped on the upturned face, squashing the feeble attempt to drag him down in a loud crunch of twisted tissue and shattered bone.

"Pesky little critters, aren't they? They don't wanna die." He paused and looked up at the red-dotted ceiling with a thoughtful expression. "Although it was kinda fun."

"Stephanie won't be pleased," Roxy said coolly from Buffy's right. 

"Stephanie? Is that where we are?" Angelus spun around, noting the exit. "So, where is she? I want to give her a proper greeting."

"She thinks she can control you. Wants you as a weapon," Roxy said, taking hold of Buffy's shaking arm at the elbow. 

Buffy could only watch as the scene unfolded.

Angelus whirled to face them again, letting his arms hang loose at his sides. "Really? Now that's interesting. We'll have to see about that."

"I know she can't control you, but like I said, she thinks she can," Roxy reiterated, inching over the blood-sodden floor to the counter where she'd mixed the herbs for the spell. 

Angelus narrowed his eyes, regarding Roxy with suspicion. "And who are *you* exactly?"

"You know who I am." Although Angelus was close, Roxy kept her tone even. . . calm. 

"You're the witch who works for Stephan," he concluded with satisfaction, taking a step toward them.

"Yes, you know me from Stephan's," Roxy admitted, indicating that he also knew her from another situation.

"And from somewhere else," Angelus said, letting himself follow the vampiress's lead. 

"From where?" Her words coming out a bit hoarsely, Buffy spoke before she thought, and she felt Roxy's cool nails push into the flesh around her elbow. 

Angelus's attention re-focused on Buffy and off Roxy. "Buffy. So, what's with you and Spike?"

Roxy had her back to the countertop, and with her free arm behind her back, she was attempting to snag something. Buffy recognized the move and bore her eyes into Angelus's yellow ones to distract him from the vampiress. "Jealous?"

His eyes flashed, and he glared. "Please. I'm far from jealous. I'm simply. . . curious."

"Yeah, right." 

Angelus's gaze shot to Roxy, and he jolted forward. "Hey!"

"Too late," Roxy said, throwing a handful of crumbled herbs from a small pouch into Angelus's startled face. She rattled off a quick string of incomprehensible syllables.

With a howl, Angelus crumpled to his knees, clutching at the shooting pain in his eyes. "Damn, witch!" he shouted, burying his face in his palms.

Roxy didn't hesitate; she dodged the soulless vampire in an attempt to make it to the door. She stopped when she noticed that Buffy wasn't following. "Buffy! Come on. It'll only last a few seconds. We have to get out of here."

Buffy was staring at the agony on Angelus's uncovered face as if she were under his thrall. Her head jolted up at Roxy's worried tone, and she seemed to come back to herself. Careful not to look at Angelus, she sidestepped the bodies and puddles of blood, rushing to Roxy's side. 

They made it to the door before Angelus spoke again. "Buffy." Angelus's composure had returned. Like a child getting sucked into a horror movie, Buffy couldn't resist glancing over her shoulder to witness an erect Angelus facing them. Although she knew he couldn't see her, she felt as if he were peering directly into her soul. 

Time seemed to stand still as he spoke, "Remember this, Buffy. People don't change. They are who they are. And Spike. . . Spike isn't innocent. He has just as much blood on his hands as I do. You may think that you've changed and that he's changed. But he's not any different than he was. The demon can never be completely eradicated. And you. . . you're still the same little girl who will always be left behind."

Rattled, Buffy closed her eyes for an instant as she absorbed the words of her ex-lover. In the back of her mind, she heard running footsteps, and her nose was full of the stench of gore. Buffy's heart thumped so loud in her chest that she was certain every vampire in the fortress could hear it, and nausea threatened to overtake her. Roxy chose that moment to break into a run away from the sound of the guards, tugging Buffy with her.

* * *

The inner paths of Stephanie's world were foreign to Buffy as Roxy raced them through narrow passageways, wide corridors, and various sized rooms in an effort to escape their pursuers. A few times, they crouched and hid from passing vampires. Thankfully, they were in too much of a rush to notice Buffy's scent and heartbeat. She guessed Angelus was giving them a run for their money. . . although there was the kranook problem as well.

The spaces and places became a blur in Buffy's mind, and her thoughts kept going over and over the bloodbath she had just witnessed. No matter how hard her brain worked, she couldn't separate Angelus's actions from Angel's face. She shivered even as she ran. 

If Angel was re-ensouled, could she ever look at him the same way?

She kept asking herself and not coming up an answer.

Roxy halted and held up a hand for Buffy to do the same.

First things first. They had to survive.

Buffy re-focused her senses on their surroundings. Nothing reminded her of the room with Angelus and the blood. 

A thought hit her like a ton of bricks.

Angelus had killed none of the vampires; their broken bodies were still undead despite severe damage to their limbs and organs. Buffy's horror intensified even if the vampires deserved what they got. Her stomach protested, but she willed herself not to dry heave.

"There's an escape route in here," Roxy whispered, leading a wary Buffy by the sleeve.

Taking in deep breaths of cool air to calm her dissident stomach, Buffy studied the large room they'd just entered. The ceilings were low and the lights dim, illuminating the walnut-colored walls and giving the room an aura of warmth and safety. Brown leather sofas and delicately carved end tables were arranged in a circle. The tops of the tables were littered with ancient texts and stacks of weathered papers. Buffy was reminded of Stephan's library, and she wondered if the room was Stephanie's sanctuary. 

No one was present.

Grasping onto the tendrils of the confidence she felt a few days ago, she summoned all her fear and anger. Seizing Roxy's shoulder, she smashed the vampiress into the wall, pinning Roxy to the surface with a vice-like grip around her neck. Buffy leaned heavily into Roxy's body to prevent her from moving her arms and legs.

Buffy glared. "First, you're going to tell me what the *hell* is going on. And don't make any sudden moves because I'll snap your neck."

Roxy was flustered for the first time. Being in danger of dying does that to a person. . . or vampire. "Look, Buffy, I know as much as you do. I'm just a spy for Stephan. I don't work for Stephanie. . . not technically."

"You're lying." Buffy kneed the vampiress in the gut, and Roxy flinched but didn't make a sound. Secretly, Buffy was impressed. "And that's a damn big technicality. You unleashed Angelus!"

"It had to be done. He would have died."

"You're a powerful witch. . . in the same league as one of my friends. You could have given him his soul back as soon as you cured him." 

Roxy said, "I don't know that spell. It's a gypsy curse."

"Well, you could've kept him unconscious until we found someone who could."

"Buffy. . . look. . . we needed a distrac. . . ."

Buffy shoved harder against the vampiress. "You said you *knew* Angelus from somewhere. . . where?"

Roxy closed her eyes and sighed. Buffy waited. 

When Roxy re-opened her eyes, she whispered, "Angel. I know Angel. . . not Angelus." She attempted to wave an arm as she said the next words, but the limb was too squashed by Buffy's strong muscles. "I don't really know him know him. But I used to work at Wolfram and Hart. . . a long time ago. I'd see him at the office, but I don't believe we ever spoke." She hesitated at Buffy's continued glower, but then, Roxy added, "I promise you that I'm on your side."

"Vampires don't keep their promises." Buffy recognized the quality in Roxy's eyes that she'd seen earlier. "A-and I don't believe you."

"You do. I may not have the same motives as you, but I'm definitely on your side in our current situation. We're both tired from the spell with Angelus, and we need our strength to get us out of here alive. Once we do get out, I swear. . . no, I *will* tell you the truth. How's that?"

Before Buffy could respond, a half-dozen vampires with stakes-on-sticks rushed into the room. Their yellow bandannas marked them as Stephanie's minions. 

As they rushed the pair, Buffy released Roxy. At last, here was something Buffy knew. She didn't have to think or feel. . . just act. "Sounds like a plan to me."

With a grunt, Buffy blocked the flying kick and twisted the vampire's leg at the knee, shattering his kneecap. She snatched the weapon from his hands and jabbed him in the heart with the wooden end. 

As he burst into dust, she held up the weapon and grinned. "Cool. I wish it had wood on both ends though. Then I could be Darth Maul Slayer!" She jammed the weapon back, staking the vampire sneaking up behind her, twirled the stick, and rammed it into the vampire approaching from the front. 

Roxy was holding her own with two other vampires, and riding the energy of the fight, she noted, "Thought you were tired."

Doing a somersault to avoid two more attackers, Buffy said, "Already there. I'm a good faker. Where's this exit of yours?"

Muttering a few words, Roxy ignited a small ball of flames above her open palm. With another syllable, the flame shot forth, consuming the vampire rushing her. "Just a sec." 

The vampiress danced out of the path of the burning vampire as he turned to ashes and floated over the ground. She caught the stake that Buffy tossed her and whirling, she swung it out long, dusting another vampire from a distance. "Totally getting the whole Jedi thing."

Feet planted firmly apart and hair slightly askew from her ponytail, Buffy stared down the remaining vampire, giving him a little half-smile as if to say, "Bring it on."

The vampire panicked and started to run the opposite direction, but Roxy whipped her stake up and pegged him before he could make a single step. "Bulls eye." She bent her wrist up and blew on the end of the wood as if it were a smoking gun.

As Buffy felt the energy from the fight dying away, her suspicion returned. . . although a little less strongly. "How do we get out before more show up?"

Roxy's playful expression faded. "Right. See the carpet in the center of the circle. Help me pull it up. Stephanie has her private escape hatch under there. It's a little icky, but it leads through the sewers and out of the fortress."

"How do you know all this stuff?"

The vampiress shrugged. "Stephanie trusts me."

"Like I'm trusting you now. How do I know that Stephanie won't be waiting for me down there?"

"Because the kranooks will be. Stephanie won't go where they are. If she senses their presence, she won't use this means to escape. She's lost control of them."

Buffy felt every hair on her body rise at the thought of the horrible battle with the snake-human hybrids. . . the battle in which they'd almost died. "I can't fight them. Not in the shape I'm in. And neither can you."

"That's why we won't be fighting them."

"What do you mean?"

Roxy started shredding the carpet in small strips. "The kranooks are our allies. Didn't you know that? They may not want what either of us want, but they have a common enemy: Stephanie." She glanced up at the gaping Buffy. "Need some help here."

"Right." Buffy began assisting in the destruction of what looked like a very expensive carpet from some Asian country. 

Several minutes later, they uncovered a small trap door. Buffy pried up the metal from the concrete frame. A foul odor accompanied by a damp mist swept up from a dark pit. She wrinkled her nose and raised an eyebrow at Roxy.

The vampiress nodded and took the opportunity to slip into the inky underworld with a single graceful leap. 

Inhaling what might be her last clean breath of air, Buffy followed. Part of her hoped that they would run into a few more vampires on the way out, so she wouldn't have to think about Angelus or Angel. . . or about what Angelus had said about her and Spike.

TBC. . . Special thanks to Sandy for the great beta read! 

Next chappie: Spuffiness. . . finally! But it's not completely rosy. . . stay tuned. . .

Thanks tons for the feedback! You guys rock! *hugs*


	17. Chapter 16

**Finding the Way Home**

by Sandy S.

_**Chapter 16**_

"You're going to apologize to Harmony before we all end up dying here." Jenn appeared between the two Spikes, hooking her arms at their elbows.

Both Spikes groaned at the same time.

"Look, Jenn," demon Spike said. "We're in the middle of strategizing here."

"And why should we apologize?" Spike added. "All that stuff between us happened eons ago."

"Hmph," Jenn huffed. "I still say you guys and L'Gant owe her something."

"After we're done stategizing," vampire Spike persisted.

Imitating the Spikes, Jenn surveyed the kranooks' headquarters. The air contained more moisture than the humid forests of Louisiana, and Spike almost felt as if he were inhaling water. The headquarters was deep underground. It was close enough to Stephanie's fortress that they had easy access to the enclosures she'd set up for them but hidden well enough that she hadn't found their personal space.

The Spikes and Jenn were standing at the edge of a cavernous room with high ceilings and lime-encased rock walls. Small private sleeping rooms were arranged in two stories across the room, but reportedly, they were rarely used except in emergencies. The kranooks tended to put up the façade that they were minding Stephanie's rules. As guests, L'Gant, the two Spikes, and Jenn each had their own private space. To Spike's right, Michael and Harmony were in the small food area, sipping blood from crudely fashioned mugs. Kranooks surrounded them, feasting from their own plates, their dinner a mess of something Spike couldn't quite make out. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what they were eating.

Spike eyed the kranook leader standing slightly apart from them. He was amazed by how different the kranooks appeared when he wasn't blindly fighting for his life in the middle of a dark throng of trees. Although they were covered in scales of varying shades of green, the structure of their faces was human and seemed to emerge from their reptilian skin as if they were wearing a costume. The kranooks' feet and hands were webbed, and their eyes were vampire yellow. When they moved, they emitted a distinctive noise that made them sound as if they were slithering. Every time Spike heard the signature noise, he shivered. He decided his reaction was instinctive, and he gave brief consideration to the notion that his feeling was the product of years of human evolution.

"We're not strategizing; we're waiting," the kranook leader suggested in a hoarse, guttural tone that was difficult to understand.

Jenn was ever impatient. "Waiting for what, Jon?"

Spike still couldn't get over how the kranook leader's name was so. . . well, so common. But he also understood. Spike had undergone a pretty radical change himself when he became a vampire, and although he'd changed his name, he'd kept it simple.

"We're waiting for reports on the riots and on the status of the dimensional key before we make our next move. Stephanie will be bringing the fight to us soon, and we must make certain she does not find this place for as long as possible."

"But what about Buffy and Angel. . . the good guys?" Jenn asked.

When they were still in Bizarro world and negotiating with the kranooks, Spike had asked the same question. Jenn had been at the Slayer headquarters gathering bags full of stakes and holy water and hadn't been exposed to. . . .

Jon's head shot around, and he hissed. His eyes flamed with anger, and his face became more reptilian than human. Spike half-expected a forked tongue to slither out from between Jon's parted lips.

And okay, so Jon was much gentler with the young woman. Spike's whole body still hurt from the kranook's. . . literal arm bending.

Jenn was startled but finished strong, "W-well. Um, we really should consider what they want with Buffy and Angel. And we should be trying to get them back. . . and soon before things start getting too out of control. Doesn't anyone remember the prophecy about the need for Spike, Buffy and Angel to defeat the vampires?"

Spike had protested the same way, and then, he learned that Stephan had been right about the kranooks' violent temper.

Before Jon could put on a repeat performance for Jenn, Spike nudged his way between the kranook and the Slayer-in-training, facing Jenn whom he knew would be more reasonable. "Let's not fight. We gotta save our energies for elsewhere."

Demon Spike took Jenn's arm and pulled her back from the imminent situation. "He's right, pet. We can't afford to fight amongst ourselves. We have a big enough battle ahead."

Jenn shook off her friend's touch. "Right. You're right." She straightened her shoulders in her leather coat. "I'm going to go check on L'Gant." To show that she wasn't really angry, she slung back over her retreating shoulder, "And I'm going to talk with him about apologizing, too."

"Stubborn," demon Spike returned.

"Look who's talking," she responded as she descended into the level where Harmony and Michael were chatting.

Spike faced Jon. "If we play this your way, nothing better happen to Buffy. . . or to Angel."

Jon glared. "You threatening me?"

"Let's just call it a warning."

xxxxx

A few hours later, Spike lay on a pallet in the small private quarters the kranooks had provided him. He was grateful that he didn't have to share a room with demon Spike; he wasn't sure he felt comfortable with the notion of sleeping with himself. The tiny fan was up full blast and provided some relief from the sweltering pressure of the heat and humidity. . . even if the blowing air was warm.

Spike had closed his eyes he didn't know how many times. But he had been unable to sleep. Instead, he'd been staring at the ceiling with his hands cupping the back of his skull. He'd tried pacing to relieve some of the tension that felt as if it were jumping through his muscles, but the room was small and the motion had done nothing but increase his irritability.

He was bored and definitely ready for something to happen.

He was worried about Buffy. . . hell, he was even worried about Angel and not just because Buffy and Angel were likely alone together. He hadn't realized how much he cared about his grandsire until he was gone. Over the years, he'd grown to trust the vampire. . . almost as much as he trusted Buffy. And he wasn't sure how he'd feel if something happened to Angel.

And if something happened to Buffy. . . .

That was it.

Spike had had enough. Clenching his jaw, he jumped up from the pallet, intent on going to Jon and insisting they do something. . . anything.

A small knock echoed from the other side of the door. Spike's eyes narrowed. Whoever was on the other side of the barrier better have news that he wanted to hear.

As soon as he swung the door open, his whole body instantly relaxed.

Buffy stood on the other side of the threshold, her hand raised to rap on the wood again.

Her hair was a tousled mess, her face was streaked with dirt and blood, and her clothes were torn in half a dozen places. Still, a smile overtook her face when she saw him.

Spike had never seen anything more beautiful.

Before he knew what was happening, she launched herself into his arms, holding him tight against her tiny form. She didn't say a word. . . just held on as if she would never let go.

Spike buried his face in her sweet neck. "God, Buffy, how'd you get here? What happened? I was so worried." Spike literally had to pry her arms from around his waist, so he could look her over again. "You're bleeding."

Buffy glanced at the gaping wound in her left arm and shrugged, remaining silent and looking up at him with big green eyes that threatened to swallow him whole.

Spike took her hand and drew her into his tiny cubicle room. He led her to the pallet and proceeded to rummage in his pack for his first aid kit. Withdrawing tape, cream, astringent, and scissors, he set them on the tiny stand next to the cot. As he turned to face her, he saw her shirt flutter to the floor in a white stream.

She smiled and snagged the loose cloth at the center of his shirt, pulling him forward.

Laying a finger over his gaping mouth, she swept it down over his bottom lip until her fingertip was under his chin. Gently, she closed his mouth and leaned forward, bringing her lips to his. He was so startled that he found himself melting into her embrace, allowing herself to tumble into the relief and happiness he felt at her safety. The kiss was simple and chaste, but Spike was aflame.

When his eyelids opened, he found her emerald eyes were lit with the same flame. "Buffy," he started.

"Shhhh," she murmured, focusing on his cheek and tracing her fingers over his face. "I need you to show me."

"Show you?" he managed, trying not to gasp as she trailed his fingers down his chest, tugging his shirt upward.

"Show me that things are different now. . . . That we're different."

Spike let Buffy sweep his shirt over his head, and her hand trailed over his abdomen, dipping lower to his tightening pants. Spike couldn't remove his eyes from her tiny hands that began circling his ribcage as she drew her naked mid-section toward his. He started to groan as her flesh pressed into his, but he was cut-off by Buffy's supple lips slamming into his with such force that he stumbled back a bit.

As her hand fumbled for his zipper, something clicked in the back of Spike's mind, making him think of a time years ago before he had a soul. . . a time when Buffy had used him. Taking a deep breath, he summoned all the willpower he had left and took her by the shoulders, being careful not to damage her arm.

Buffy looked startled at his reaction, and Spike waited for the cloud of desire to sweep away from her eyes. She took in his expression, and immediately, tears filled her eyes.

"What's going on, Buffy?" he asked, his words edged with a sharpness that faded as the tears trailed over her face.

Buffy's shoulders slumped slightly, and Spike led her to his pallet. She sank onto the thin mattress with her head bowed; Spike perched beside her and ran his hand over the back of her long hair.

"Tell me what happened." To give her time to gather her thoughts, he returned to his original task of assembling supplies to care for her arm.

"What do you mean?" she asked even though she knew what he was talking about.

"In Stephanie's fortress. What happened?" He met her eyes from beneath raised eyebrows. "Where's Angel?"

Tears flowed anew down Buffy's cheeks, and several seconds passed before she responded, "H-he's gone."

Not surprised by her revelation, Spike began dabbing astringent on Buffy's injury to cleanse the laceration. She squirmed and grimaced at the sting, and he mindfully blew on the cut, waiting for her to continue.

She finally said, "He's Angelus again."

Of all the things he expected her to say, Spike hadn't anticipated that Angel had lost his soul. . . well, he wasn't sure what he expected her to say. "How?"

Her eyes fluttered up briefly to meet his, but despite his reassuring touch, her next words came out in a disjointed manner, "Roxy. . . and Stephanie. Angel was bitten by a kranook. It was the only cure. A-and it was horrible how they did it. It felt like part of me w-was being sucked out."

Spike's face wrinkled up in his confusion. "Okay. Let's start at the beginning."

Buffy nodded and hiccupped a little.

"What happened first after you and Angel were taken from the battle with the kranooks?" Spike returned to bandaging her arm.

"Well, Angel was unconscious because he was bitten by one of the kranooks. And I was knocked unconscious." Buffy handed Spike a moist cloth to wipe the excess cream off his fingers. "A-and when I woke up, I was in a cell in Stephanie's palace. And man, did that suck. She didn't even have a toilet in her prison! What kind of person doesn't have a toilet in their prison?"

"A vampire?" Spike asked, and he was rewarded with the beginnings of a smile at the corners of Buffy's lips.

"Uh huh." Her face grew serious again, and she explained the rest of the events that had transpired until she reached his door.

Spike listened silently, feeling a plethora of emotions from anger to disappointment to tenderness to finally understanding why Buffy had done what she had when she knocked on his door. Without realizing what he was doing, his hand had gone from holding hers to nestling around her waist. By the end of her tale, Buffy was in his lap on the narrow cot.

When she ceased talking, Spike took a few moments to gather his thoughts before he burst out with what was in his heart.

Buffy wasn't used to such restraint from Spike, and she looked up at him from his chest, with expectation written on her features. "So?"

"So, what?" he asked, averting his eyes.

"So, why aren't you saying anything? You know, how you're disappointed in me that I tried to use you again or something."

Spike bit the inside of his cheek and inhaled deeply. "Buffy, I'm not going to change. If you let yourself lo. . . have feelings for me, I'm not going to disappear. I'm not going to change and become someone else who will abuse you. What you see is what you get with me. Haven't you learned that by now?"

Tears filled Buffy's eyes, and she hid them by burying her face against his chest. "I know that."

Spike felt tired. "I'm not Angelus; I'm not Angel. I never will be. You just have to decide what you want. . . and sort through your fears." He halted for a moment before continuing, "I can't do it. I can be here while you do, but I can't fix it for you."

Buffy moved her hand to the top of his, pressing the tips of her fingers in the crevices at the base of his fingers. Her words came out a little hoarse, "I know."

"So, it's really up to you. You have to decide what you want. I know you, Buffy. When you make up your mind about something, you go for it, and you get it. That's something I admire; it's what I strive to be. And if you knew what you wanted, then, we wouldn't be having this conversation. You'd already be going for it."

Buffy sniffled, but Spike wasn't going to back down now that he finally had words for what he was thinking and now that he had her undivided attention away from the distractions of their mission. "I don't buy what Angelus said about neither of us changing. We've both changed. I know that I'm not changing back to the way I was when I was soulless. I know that I can't possibly make up for what I've done in the past. But I can move forward. And Buffy, you've changed, too. You've dealt with the loss of being the only Slayer; you've dealt with the loss of friends and lovers. And so what if you still have some of the same fears. Because you've dealt with them before, it'll be easier to deal with them again. And bloody hell, stop me while I'm ahead! I'm starting to sound like your shrink. . . what's the sod's name? Oh, yeah. Jonathan."

Pushing away from and offering him a grin and a giggle, she agreed, "You do sound like a shrink."

Spike rested his chin atop her head, inhaling the scent of vanilla shampoo and blood. He wasn't sure how he felt about adding the next part, but part of him couldn't resist, "You don't have to decide everything today." He wished she could. . . would decide.

Her shoulders lowered even more; he hadn't realized how tense she still was. In a voice as small as a child's, she agreed, "Okay."

Spike patted her leg, readjusting to the situation at hand. "Let's get you cleaned up, love. Can't have you running around covered in blood. Then, you'll definitely attract the vamps."

"Right." Buffy moved to one side, allowing Spike access to the medical supplies. Pulling her hair around her neck to allow better exposure to the wound in her arm, she added, "And after you finish, I need to talk with Roxy."

"Want company?"

She smiled. "Company is welcome."

"Good. I'd like to get some answers." He drenched another bit of cotton in astringent and pressed the material to Buffy's wound.

Buffy sucked on her bottom lip at the sting. She needed distraction and fast. . . before he got to the stitches part. "So, tell me what you've been up to. How'd you get here?"

Spike lifted an eyebrow at her. "I've got tales for you."

TBC. . . Sorry for the long wait. . .


	18. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 17**_

"What're you doing lurking about out here?"

Spike let go of the doorknob to his small room. He'd patched up Buffy's arm and told her about his adventures without her, keeping up his calm façade. Truth be told, he was still a bit rattled by her advances. As soon as he finished mending her wound, he'd excused himself. He just needed a moment to sort through his whirling thoughts.

And who immediately greeted him?

Demon Spike smirked at him and flicked the cigarette he was sucking on to the ground. Grinding out the tiny scarlet flame with the heel of his boot, he shrugged. "Saw Buffy go in there with you. Smelled the blood on her from across the way. Was curious is all."

"Go somewhere else. There's nothing to see. . . or hear," Spike retorted. He didn't like being on the receiving end of his own peeping-Tom act. He was even more disconcerted to be confronted by himself. . . the way he used to be.

The vampire surveyed Spike's face. "She came onto you, didn't she?"

Spike brushed past his twin, heading toward the group of kranooks gathered around Harmony, Michael, and Roxy. "That is none of your business, mate."

Close behind, demon Spike sounded excited, "Oh ho. Let me guess. You turned her down. She comes back from god knows where covered in blood, needs a little bit of cold comfort, and you turn her down? Am I missing something here or. . .?"

Spike spun to face his counterpart. Nose to nose, jaw tight, he growled, "I don't want to talk about it."

"You're crazy. I can smell how much you want her. That girl. . ." he pointed back toward the quarters, "that girl is throwing herself at you and just walk away?"

Spike was having a hard enough time with once again shifting from being emotionally close to Buffy to having to tuck his feelings away. He had to focus on the mission. She was going to be the death of him before their adventure was over, and demon Spike wasn't helping the matter any by insisting that he should take advantage of her vulnerability.

Spike lifted his arms in surrender and turned back onto his original path. "Fine. You want to know? I'll tell you. Everything happened just exactly as you think. Does that satisfy you?"

Vampire Spike crossed his arms. "No. . . no, it doesn't. Look, I'm just trying to help you. Don't want you to make the same mistakes I did."

Spike wasn't quite placated and was fully aware he was taking his anger out on. . . himself. He lengthened his strides. "Well, stop trying to help me. I'm not the same as you. She's not the same as your Buffy. And she didn't choose you in your dimension."

Demon Spike matched Spike's speed. "Whoa. Wasn't trying to attack you. Like I said, I'm just trying to make things go differently for the two of you."

Spike glared over his shoulder at his doppelganger. "We have a mission here. Let's just keep centered on that. . . . Or maybe you should tell me exactly how your Buffy died."

"What's it take?"

Spike froze at the words. His jaw tightening, he barely managed, "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

"You better damn well have an explanation for using those exact words, or. . ."

"I just want you to answer that question for yourself. You're acting worse than she ever did. Yeah, she left you for three years. Yeah, she dated someone else. Yeah, she made mistakes. She's human. But so are you now. Nothing's standing in your way. Nothing."

Spike gritted his teeth. "I will say this one more time and one more time only. I didn't tell you all that stuff about Buffy and me so that you could use it to lecture me about what I should and should not do. We have a job to do."

Multiple emotions played across demon Spike's face, but Spike didn't stop to try to figure them out. "Let's just focus on the mission," the vampire conceded.

"Good."

"What are we doing again?"

"Preparing for battle."

Demon Spike sighed, jogging to catch up to Spike. "I know that. I meant right now."

"Roxy knows something. We need to find out what that is."

"Any news about Angel. . . your Angel?"

"He's no longer Angel," Spike grumbled.

Vampire Spike halted dead in his tracks. "Angelus? Angelus is back? How?"

xxxxx

Spike hadn't waited for her like he said he would.

Feeling a bit confused by his actions, Buffy sidled past the younger Slayer she now knew was named Jenn. Michael and demon Spike each held onto one of Roxy's arms, and something was stuffed in the vampiress's mouth to keep her from casting spells. Harmony stood at Michael's elbow.

Planting herself near her Spike, Buffy crossed her arms and tried to listen to what Spike was discussing with the kranook leader, Jon.

With the presence of demon Spike, Buffy thought of human Spike as hers. She wasn't quite sure what to make of what she had just instigated with Spike. They'd both tucked their feelings away so quickly. Buffy was used to doing the stuffing-her-feelings-into-an-internal-box routine. As a Slayer, she'd had to do it for years to focus on the impending apocalypse-of-the-week.

On occasion, her feelings had fueled and centered her resolve. But so many other times, her feelings had made a fight. . . a mission. . . harder for her. Despite her bravado with Kendra so many years ago, she was still working on honing her use of emotion as a precision weapon.

Buffy peeked at Spike out of the corner of her eye, hoping for a signal from him that what had happened between them had not resulted in another break in their relationship. As she feared and half-expected, he ignored her in favor of his argument with Jon. Once again, she pushed aside her emotions.

"We really need to confront her now. . . before things get so chaotic that we don't have a chance," Spike insisted, thumbs and forefingers hooked in the belt-less loops of his jeans. Buffy mused that he must have gotten the jeans from his alternate dimension self.

Jon was obviously angry. His snake-like pupils were narrow slits, his tail swished wildly, and his response to Spike had a hiss-like quality to it that made Buffy shiver, "We don't have time. Stephanie's forces have completely taken over Vampire Villa, and she'll be coming here next. Once she invades every corner of this place, she'll bring the Villa to fruition in your dimension."

"And Roxy may have the key to stopping Stephanie," Spike retorted. "We can't just ignore what Buffy discovered in Stephanie's stronghold."

Buffy marveled at Spike's desire to plan and at how much he'd changed in three years. . . well, since he'd been re-ensouled. Deciding that her last comment left her free to jump into the verbal fray, she stepped slightly in front of Spike. "I know I'm coming in kinda late here, but I wanted to point out that I think we all have different agendas here."

Caught off guard, Jon was visibly calmed by the change of her voice, and he regarded her seriously. "Yes, we do."

"But we can work together to achieve our goals. It's the only way to defeat Stephanie," Roxy offered despite her uncomfortable situation.

Everyone stared at her, some with more malice than others.

"She's right," Spike acknowledged.

"But first, we lay our cards on the table," Jon insisted. "Trust will be of utmost important in the upcoming battle, and there are things you should know about us."

"Us?" Buffy asked. Was he including all of them in his statement?

"The kranooks," Roxy guessed as she spat out the rag in her mouth. "And no, I'm not going to cast any spells."

"You have no right to know anything about us," Jon hissed anew, almost lunging at Roxy. "Until we know about you."

"Okay," Spike said, placing an arm between the kranook leader and the vampiress. "We are not going to argue about who goes first with their 'cards.' There's no time."

Everyone focused on Roxy again.

"Spill," Jenn demanded, hand on one hip.

Roxy blinked and within the span of a few seconds, she seemed more resigned. "The truth."

"All of it," Harmony piped up, surprising Buffy, Spike, and even Michael. "Who do you work for?"

Almost excited that she was ahead of the game, Buffy burst out, "Wolfram and Hart! She works for Wolfram and Hart."

Demon Spike snorted in disgust. "Figures."

"It's not like I'm happy about it," Roxy said wearily.

Spike glared at his counterpart and focused on Roxy with a gentler tone, "What do you mean?"

"Would you want to work for Wolfram and Hart?" Harmony asked her ex in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

No one listened to Harmony, and she huffed and rolled her eyes when Roxy continued, "It's not something I wanted to do. It's a long story. The short version is that I'm a witch. . . I'm not really a vampire. Wolfram and Hart wanted me to work for them. I refused. They sent demons after my family. In exchange for sparing my family, they forced me to work for them."

Michael emitted a low whistle and looked her up and down. "Damn. I knew there was something off about you."

Roxy nodded. "Same technology that made them appear to be vampires."

"You got a chip in your noggin'?" Spike asked.

"Yes."

"What were you sent here to do?"

Roxy hesitated, surveying her captors. "Guess I don't have much of a choice."

"About what?" Harmony asked, clearly mystified by the witch's indecision.

"About telling us, you half-wit," vampire Spike muttered.

Michael lunged at him across Roxy, but Harmony held up a hand in demon Spike's face. "He's not worth it," she sniffed.

"And?" Jon prodded Roxy, tail swishing again.

"And I was sent here by the senior partners to infiltrate Stephan and Stephanie's operation and prevent them from attempting to bring the vampire city into the dimension you belong to."

"Whose dimension?" Jenn asked in confusion.

"Ours," Buffy nodded to Spike. "It's ours."

"Right," Roxy confirmed.

"That doesn't make any sense, pet," Spike said. "Why would they want to prevent it?"

"It involves us, doesn't it?" Jenn added to Spike's question. "Our dimension."

"Right," Roxy repeated.

"This story is going on longer than she said it would," Harmony whined, studying her fingernails.

"She's right," Jon growled. "Get on with the point."

Roxy did not show signs of losing her temper. "Bottom line? Wolfram and Hart screwed up in your dimension, Jenn. That's your name, right?"

Jenn dipped her head once.

"Two vampires with souls was the perfect set up for a power differential. Then, there were all the Slayers in the world. . . and a newly human champion. When the vampires fled the Earthly plane for the space between dimensions, the balance of good and evil shifted toward good, creating a tension. . . an imbalance across dimensional lines. Although the imbalance toward good was not so helpful for the senior partners in the short term, it was ideal in the long term. The longer the force of evil. . . the force of vampires clustered in the space between. . ."

"The more the tension built," Buffy interrupted. "And continues to build."

"Which is why they didn't want the vampire city to cross dimension lines," Spike finished for Buffy. They exchanged a smile, and Buffy wondered if it meant things were okay between them.

Jenn frowned. "But I still don't understand how they screwed up in my dimension."

"Good thinking," Roxy said. "They messed up because they put a human in charge of the law firm. Angel was chosen as champion. . . not Spike. Angel was in charge of Wolfram and Hart in your dimension as well. Human Angel was more corruptible than vampire Angel."

Demon Spike was thoughtful, "And because the Slayer. . . Buffy. . . passed in my dimension. . ."

"The tension was disrupted, and the vampire city had little potential power to destroy if brought into your portion of the plane," Roxy explained.

"And power is everything," vampire Spike said bitterly.

"Power is everything to the senior partners," she amended.

"So what does this power differential mean now that Angel's lost his soul?" Buffy asked.

"It means that the senior partners lost ground. It means that they will want more than ever to prevent Stephanie from moving Vamp Villa. . . until tension is restored."

"They want us to destroy Stephanie," Spike said, starting to put the pieces in place. "That's why Lilah said I needed to watch out for Angel. She didn't want him to lose his soul. She said he'd find something out. . . something that would make him not care if he lost his soul."

Roxy shrugged. "I don't know what that could be."

"I do," demon Spike uttered. All eyes swiveled to his grim face. "He would find out that Buffy chose me. . . well, him. . .in the other dimension." He inclined his head at his twin. "The senior partners thought that would make him not care anymore. . . would make him vulnerable to evil."

Buffy raised a tentative hand. "Excuse me, but I don't think my 'choice' could cause him that much distress. . . not now. Years have passed; he'd deal."

"He didn't deal real well in my dimension," the vampire muttered in return.

"He's right," Jenn agreed. "Angel. . . human Angel didn't deal real well with Buffy's decisions in our timeline."

Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't see how this has any relevance for our upcoming fight with Stephanie," the kranook leader interrupted, forked tongue sliding over his lips as he spoke.

"It has a lot to do with it," vampire Spike countered.

"It has to do with how Buffy. . . your Buffy died," Roxy guessed.

Now Buffy was intrigued. She crossed her arms and stood before demon Spike. "Explain."

"The bint's right. Suffice it to say that. . ." Tears filled his eyes, and for the first time, Buffy felt sorry for Spike's alter.

"Tell us," she urged gently.

Vampire Spike looked to Jenn for help.

Jenn touched his shoulder in understanding. "Our Buffy died. She died because she chose to sacrifice herself so that he might remain."

"Who might remain?" Michael breathed, more caught up in the story than he wanted to be.

"Me," Spike's counterpart admitted, lifting his head. His cheeks were damp with tears. "She died saving me."

xxxxx

TBC. . . The next part is continued exposition before the battle. . . :o) Hope you're enjoying!


	19. Chapter 18

**_Chapter 18_ **

Buffy couldn't help herself. She mentally and physically took a step back, trying to fathom what demon Spike had just revealed. In the end, she. . . or rather the other Buffy had chosen Spike's life over her own. Instead of Spike dying for the world, the alter-Buffy had died for Spike.

Her heart beating in her throat, she met vampire Spike's clear blue eyes as if seeing him for the first time. "Why?"

Demon Spike shrugged. "She. . ."

Jenn spoke for him, filling in the blanks, "She believed in him. . . believed that he would stay behind and fight for Angel. . . fight to help him rally back from the evil that was starting the consume him through Wolfram and Hart."

Buffy exchanged a look with her Spike, and for some reason, she longed to reach out and touch him. . . just to reassure herself that they were in a different place than the Spike who remained a vampire. Without a word spoken between them, he read her thoughts, and he moved closer to her so that she felt his body hovering near her back.

"I still don't see what this has to do with anything," Jon snarled with more volume than his other interruptions.

"He's starting to sound like a broken record, but he's right," Harmony said, fluffing her hair and staring off into space as if bored by the entire conversation.

Vampire Spike ignored his ex, "Only, I failed to bring him round. He sank further and further into the clutches of the senior partners, and there was nothing I could do but watch. And I only stayed around to watch because of. . ."

"Celeste," Buffy supplied, memory forever imprinted with the image of the little blond-headed girl who had called her "Mommy."

Demon Spike nodded. "Right. Had to make sure she was safe from the evil. And because Angel slipped further, that must mean that the tension across dimension lines was lessened."

"I don't understand how this tension could be affected so much by one being," Jenn offered. "You think there'd be enough Slayers to keep the tension going."

Roxy explained, "Not all the Slayers are major players in the battle between good and evil. . . no matter what we or they might like to think."

"It comes down to down to you three for some reason," vampire Spike suggested, nodding at Buffy and Spike in turn. "You and you and your Angel."

"Again, I ask how this relates to my people," Jon interjected. He was starting to sound like a broken record. . . a deadly broken record that hissed and packed quite a wallop in his attack.

"It relates because you want to stop Stephanie, too," Roxy replied. "The senior partners want to temporarily stop Stephanie so the power differential can continue to build.

"We want to kill Stephanie," Jon corrected. "Doesn't matter how many of us die in the process. We want her dead for what she has done to us. . . making us slaves to the magic through the chips in our head."

"Never said the senior partners didn't want her dead," Roxy added quietly. "Know I do."

Harmony nodded. "Michael and I want her dead for what she did to Stephan. She ruined everything for us; we were set in the city." She sniffed delicately. "She burned down my shop!"

"Wait a minute. There're chips in brains involved?" demon Spike scoffed. "Well that just makes everything all grand."

Everyone stared at him. Apparently, he was over his tears of a moment ago. Buffy surveyed him and decided that wasn't accurate. He was just putting up his bravado again.

"What? Just glad they're not in my noggin."

"But it's okay for them to be in ours?" Jon leered at the vampire, but the kranook leader seemed more placated now that the subject was on something he cared about.

"Actually, it may be the key to everything," Roxy said. "Spike, Buffy, and Angel have a prophecy to fulfill."

"That's gonna be real easy." Buffy made a face. "Or did you forget that you took Angel's soul from him?"

"To save his life!"

"Well, now he's batting for the other team." Buffy's eyes rounded, and someone snickered. She thought it was demon Spike. "That came out so wrong."

Roxy winked at her. Buffy wasn't sure if she wanted to strangle the witch or give her a hug after the experiences they'd shared together.

"And now, we can use that to our advantage," the witch assured them.

"How?" Spike asked. "He's kind of. . . well, evil now."

Roxy nodded. "Which is why we give him his soul back from afar."

"Hey! You said you couldn't do a gypsy curse," Buffy reminded her.

"I can't. But Willow can." Buffy opened her mouth again, but Roxy spoke before she could utter a sound, "And I have a way that you can contact her. Meanwhile, the rest of us will give Stephanie and her vamps the fight of her life."

"And after Angel gets his soul back?" Buffy asked.

Roxy sighed. "I'm afraid that I don't know what will happen then."

xxxxx

Buffy had chosen him twice.

In the semi-dark depths of the underground, Spike inhaled the stale scent of unused air and clutched a torch in one hand, lighting their path. He was having a hard time fathoming the truth. Even though it was plain as day in his mind, his emotions weren't quite up to speed. Hell, had his emotions been steady for the last three years without her? He thought they had been. . . when she wasn't in the picture.

Now in the quiet space. . . in the calm before the storm, Spike found himself wondering what would have happened if he had ignored her attempt to run away from him and gone after her instead. Would they be in this awkward space of touching and not touching. . . drawing close and pulling back?

Shifting the pack on his shoulder, he glanced at the Slayer. . . his Slayer out of the corner of his eye. Buffy walked along beside him as she had always done, blond hair trussed up in a bouncy ponytail that swung with an innocence that he knew she no longer possessed. She seemed oblivious to him. . . focused on their mission to get to the highest possible spot within the kranook caverns. . . closest to the mystical energy source humming through Stephanie's headquarters.

Spike clenched his jaw.

Roxy better not have been lying about where they needed to go, or he'd personally tear every limb from her body even if he had to get re-vamped to do it.

"So how're we gonna call Willow again?" Buffy asked him out of the blue, a spark of green glinting in her eye as she peered up at him.

"We're going to try to harness the energy the witch told us about, using this baby." Spike tilted his head toward the bag on his back. The magic amplifying device Roxy had given them felt heavy against his spine.

"And we got the spell. Say the right words, do a little dance, and viola, Willow contact?" Spike could picture her frowning as she went over the plan in her mind. "I wonder how we'll we know it's working?"

Spike chuckled. "I suppose when Red starts talking in our heads, pet."

"Inter-dimensionally? You have no idea, do you?" she asked, and Spike could see her incredulous expression in the dim lighting.

Levity between them sure was better than the alternative awkwardness that could have easily slid into place after their last one-on-one encounter. Spike wasn't sure how many more of those he could take on the current mission. . . or any other mission for that matter. What would happen after they accomplished their task of dashing Stephanie's dreams?

"Actually, no. Somehow we're supposed to help Angel retrieve his soul, so we can fulfill our end of the prophecy."

She laughed then. "This is crazy, isn't it?"

"What is?" Spike agreed, but he wanted to hear her view of the craziness.

"All these different agendas, different dimensions, different decisions, Roxy's plan, the vagueness of the stupid prophecy. God, who would have known that one little decision on my part would be so important? Makes me wonder what would happen if I. . ."

She stumbled over something in the dark, but Spike caught her by the elbow, holding onto her so she wouldn't fall.

"You all right, love?"

"Like this, for example," she continued, clapping her hands together to knock off excess dirt from the cavern wall that she'd touched in an effort to balance herself.

"What?"

"You know. If I walk the wrong way or fall over, is it going to cause some catastrophic event in the near or distant future?"

"I think that you're giving yourself far too much credit," he said in a lower voice. He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance at himself for breaking the amicable flow of their conversation.

She shook her head. "You're right. You're right. I suppose all the power I wielded in terms of huge alterations in the timeline was just around that last apocalypse at the Sunnydale hellmouth."

"I suppose." Spike wasn't going to fill in the blanks for her.

So, she kept going on her own, "Do you ever wonder what would have happened if I would've stayed with you?"

Spike wasn't expecting that question to come flying out of her mouth. Then again, he knew better than to try and predict anything she did or said.

His initial reaction was to say something sarcastic, put her in her place, and stalk off the opposite direction, ignoring that he had just had the same thought not a few minutes before.

But his rational mind knew better. . . knew that he really had nowhere to go in this hell. Space between dimensions his ass. . . this was hell. Annoyingly, the emotional part of him didn't want to hurt her despite what she had done in the past. And he was annoyed with himself because he knew what that meant about his own feelings.

Instead, he chose to be logical in answer to her question, "I think we'd have mucked it up royally." He paused, but she had no response, so he took her silence as agreement and admitted, "You weren't ready, but neither was I. I was a vampire for over one hundred years; think I adjusted to the whole human thing right off the bat? No puns intended."

The light on Buffy's face hinted at a corner of her mouth going in the upward direction.

"Have we had this discussion before?" he asked aburptly, staying with her mood.

She sounded more amused, "Hmmm. I think so. Only last time, there was considerably more yelling and emotion on both our parts. And then, there was the whole Jonathan thing."

"Don't bring him back up," Spike mock-growled.

"Well, you brought him up last."

"I know." Spike grimaced.

"What were you saying?"

"That we'd have mucked the whole thing up?"

"Yeah, that. You're probably right. We weren't ready." She halted dead in her tracks and placed a small hand against his forearm.

He watched her with a quizzical expression on his face. "What? Did you hear something?"

"And now? We're different now." She slid her hand along his arm and pressed her palm against his.

Scar molded against scar.

Spike blinked. Was she daft? Had she forgotten the recent events in his bunk at the kranooks' lair? What they'd said to one another. . . or rather what he'd said to her?

"I know what you're thinking. I don't have to decide now. I have to make up my mind about whether or not I trust myself enough to trust you." She shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. "That sounded a lot less confusing in my head."

"Where are you going with this, pet? We have a mission here." He removed his hand from hers and hooked his thumb under the strap of the backpack, pulling it away from his shoulder.

She stared at him as he tried to push past her.

This time, she grabbed his arm. "No. I'm not finished."

"Well, I am."

"No, you're not. . . not until I say you are," she insisted, finding an untapped source of energy and dancing around until she was in front of him, blocking his way.

"Since when should I listen to you?" Spike was irritated now, and he just wanted to stop what was happening before he didn't have any control over his feelings.

"Stop it. You're just circling back around to the same argument that we had since we started this mission, and that. . . that prevents us from communicating."

"Don't see that you're the expert at communication."

"No. No, I'm not. But I'm trying here. I'm trying, Spike."

"Why bother?" He sighed as he gave into the emotion that was making his heart pound in a way that it hadn't in a long time. "It's not like we can take this conversation anywhere right now. We have a mission."

"Screw the mission!" Buffy shouted, throwing both arms in the air. "All you talk about is 'the mission!'" She studied the ground for a second with a little frown on her face. "God, no wonder everyone got sick of me before," she said almost to herself. Her gaze slammed into his again. "It's all about the 'bloody' mission! Even when I was off figuring myself out. . . it was about finding and helping all the Slayers in the world. . . teaching them lessons and showing them the ropes. . . teaching them the mission! Screw it!"

Of all the things she could have said. . . "What did you say, pet?"

Her eyes were ablaze even in the diffuse light. "I'm sick to death of 'the mission' ruling my life. I'm a person here w-with thoughts and f-feelings and rights and needs. Damn it! I have needs. And I deserve to take every rare chance that's offered me to try and meet those needs!"

Spike stared at her.

"Even if my everyday decisions don't carry that much weight in the mystical battle between good and evil, they carry a lot of weight to me, and hell, they can make a big difference in my life! And so, I'm making a choice! Right here. Right now. This moment." She paused half a second to breathe, and she began pacing back and forth under Spike's nose. He couldn't help but be amused by the motion of her ponytail punctuating her statements. "So I'm insecure; so I'm not perfect. Everyone is, and I never will be! So I've had a few bad experiences, so I need a little reassurance every now and then when someone from my past tries to hurt me. That does not mean that I'm not ready to make a decision! That does not mean I'm an emotional cripple! And that does not mean I don't know what I want!"

Spike wasn't sure what exactly she was hinting at. "Buffy. . ."

"What?" She looked up at him with wide green eyes and half-parted lips, all innocence as if she'd completely lost track of what she was saying with his utterance of her name.

"Bottom line, pet."

"Oh."

The scar above Spike's eye jumped half an inch.

She searched what she could see of his face. . . his eyes. . . . Then, she mumbled something so softly that he almost couldn't make it out. After all, he didn't have vampire hearing anymore.

"What?" he asked, uncertain whether he believed what she'd just admitted.

Something akin to hurt flashed over her features, and she spun on her heel and dismissed him with a flick of her hand. "But if you can't handle it."

And she was off up the next incline and closer to the heart of Stephanie's headquarters.

He took three large strides after her and spun her around with his free hand. The pack slid from his shoulder to the ground.

"Hope you didn't break it," she whispered, not sure what she meant.

His fingers dug into her upper arm, but not enough to hurt her. He couldn't really hurt her anyway. . . not really. "Don't say those kinds of things unless you mean them."

She glared at him, extricated her arm and stepped back. "You didn't even hear me."

"Say it louder then," he said, his voice indignant despite his attempt to sound neutral. "Say it like you mean it. You can't, can you?"

Tears glazed her corneas, sheathing green in crystalline liquid. She focused on his chest, pointing an index finger toward his sternum. "Don't. . . don't you. . .you even start with that crap again. Don't you build another wall when I'm trying to tear this one down."

Spike's own vision blurred before he was cognizant of the pain of the memories racing through his mind.

Buffy noticed and calmed by his display of emotion, she rested an open palm on his chest. . . over his heart. "You're trembling, and your heart is going so fast," she marveled, not for the first time, at his state of living.

"God, Buffy."

Deliberately moving her hand from his chest to his hand that was wrapped around the torch, she covered his fist, splaying fingers over knuckles. In gentle motion, she pulled the blaze down so that the fire echoed against the depths of her eyes. . . so he couldn't deny the genuineness of her words. . . .

"I love you, Spike."

TBC. . .


	20. Chapter 19

_**Chapter 19**_

Spike had too many voices in his head telling him too many different things at the same time. More times than he could count, he'd been at a crossroads with the petite blonde in front of him that he really wasn't sure which way the scene would play out.

Her words had caught him by surprise. . . again. He'd challenged her to express her feelings for him, but in his heart of hearts, he hadn't actually expected her to be honest.

"Spike?"

He realized that he had been alternately staring at the top of her head and at her eyebrow or her earlobe. . . anything to prevent having to view her vulnerability. If he saw that, he would have to truly admit she meant what she'd just said, and he'd be lost. . . completely lost in her. So far, he'd been very good at rationalizing away why he shouldn't get more involved with Buffy, but now. . .

Her eyes flitted over his features, trying to catch a glimpse of his feelings.

He closed his eyes to escape, and even in the darkness of his own space, he could almost feel the waves of disappointment and hurt rolling off of her.

His face was stoic, but she was right; his heart was going fast as a rabbit's. Who was he kidding? He never had been good at hiding his emotions.

A growl sprang out of the back of his throat, and he made a decision.

His right hand was pinned under hers, but his left was free, and he found her waist, pushing her backward into the dry cavern wall. The wall held firm but was dry and rough against the skin on his fingers as his hand slid to the small of her back.

He pulled her against him. . . hip against hip and let himself truly look at her.

"You're beautiful," he breathed, eyes on her eyes, lips hovering over her lips.

She groaned then as if she had been holding her breath and brought her free hand to the concave of his cheek. "And you're so warm."

He laughed then, a broad smile cracking open the door to his heart that he'd so carefully closed three years ago when she'd left him in Los Angeles.

Smiling at his joy, she teased, "I know I keep saying that, but you are."

Purposefully blowing warm air over her lips, he said, "How's that?"

She shivered in his arms. "Good."

"Got goose bumps from the heat?"

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"Why are you still talking?"

His eyes glinted at her challenge, and he bent to one side, jamming the end of the torch into the soft ground. Turning his attention back to the woman in his arms, he searched her face and then, closing his eyes, brought his lips to hers. . . mouth over mouth. . . as if to tell her how much he was done with words.

Buffy's mouth was as warm and soft and pliable as before in the kranooks' cabin, but this moment was different somehow. There was urgency behind their kiss because they were in real danger, but there was something less. . . desperate about Buffy. Maybe she was surer of herself and her feelings toward him. To be quite honest, Spike felt more certain of his own. . . maybe his demon twin's speech had given him some confidence to set things in motion with her. He'd known the feelings had been there all along, but he just needed a bit of a push to act on them.

She drew back just a bit. "Hey," she said with a gentleness he had rarely experienced from her.

"What'd you stop for?"

"It feels wonderful. . . you feel wonderful." One of her legs was between his, she rubbed her thigh against his obvious arousal so that he groaned in desire. "But your mind is somewhere else. . . what's up?"

He smoothed back a strand of her hair from her forehead, allowing his fingers to linger over her chin. "Um, well, pet, could it be the whole imminent apocalypse?"

"No. It's something else."

He swallowed and was somewhat surprised by the words that passed his lips, "I'm human. Can we make this work if I'm just. . . a man?"

Laying her head against his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his ribcage, she didn't hesitate, "And I'm merely a Slayer among Slayers. . . no matter what Roxy said." She propped her chin on his sternum. "And hey, I'm human, too. Last time I checked." She lifted an arm, looked at the limb with a cocked head, and wiggled it around as if it defined her "human-ness."

He couldn't help but laugh again.

"Contrary to what you might believe, I learned something from dating humans in the past and that is, the strength and speed don't matter. It's the connection shared. . . here. . . and here." She swept fingers over his forehead and over his heart. "Besides most of my friends are human, and they manage the good fight just fine."

"But you don't date your friends."

"I do. I have. I want to. You're my friend." She bit her lip. "And the other thing on your mind?"

"Angel."

"You're kissing me and thinking about Angel?"

"Well, yeah," he said almost sheepishly.

"I'm not sure if I should be insulted or laugh," she teased. Her eyes took in his expression. "Seriously, what about him?"

"Well, for one thing, there's this little girl named Celeste that the two of you had together."

She blinked. "What! Celeste isn't even my child!"

"But she has no mum and her father is. . . well, not exactly fit to raise her. Won't that put a bit of a hitch in. . . us?" The confusion on her face pressed him to continue, "I mean, won't you want to raise her with Angel?"

Buffy's jaw dropped. Then, she narrowed her eyes at him. "I don't have any right to raise Celeste. Yeah, I think that she doesn't need to be raised by human Angel and crew but. . . you know, the person that should probably have the say about where she lives is probably the other. . . you know. . . you." Reaching up, she tapped his forehead with her index finger. "There's something more buzzing around in that head of yours. Spill."

Despite the levity in her tone, the seriousness shining from her green eyes made him hesitate. Should he tell her the truth? He took a deep breath. Her stubbornness was making its presence known, too.

"I'm. . . I. . ." He stared at the cavern wall, trying to decide how to say what he needed to say.

"Hey, mister," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "I'm not going anywhere. . . no matter what's on your mind. I know you have every right not to believe that, but I promise you that I'm not."

"What are your feelings for Angel. . . our Angel?" Spike asked in a rush.

A smile spread over her face. "Jealous much?"

He squirmed a little in her arms but didn't stop touching her. "You're liking this way too much, pet."

"Let me ask you this. Why do you have to know what my feelings are for Angel? How will that knowledge help you?"

"You get that from your shrink?" he asked, his sense of humor poking out its head. Perhaps she was right. He didn't need to know those kinds of details.

She innocently rolled her eyes to the left and grinned. "Maybe. You do realize that I'm with you, right? And not anyone else."

"Say it again," he said, his voice low with desire, forehead touching hers.

"What? That I'm with you?"

"No, the other thing. . . what you said to me earlier."

"I said lotsa things earlier. . . about practically every past boyfriend I've ever had."

He gave her a look. "I just want to hear you say it out loud again."

"Fine," she whispered, kissing him softly on the lips and pulling him against her again. "I love you."

"I love you, too, pet."

She smiled up at him to show him how pleased she was at his words.

"Just had to have to opportunity to say it out loud," he whispered.

"And I want you," she added, moving from his mouth to his earlobe to his neck, alternating between kisses and nips.

Spike groaned. "Likewise, pet," he managed, "We really have to stop almost. . . you know. . ."

She laughed with her face against his chest, and Spike thought it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "We do have bad timing, huh?"

"Listen to me, love."

Her eyes were wide and clear. "I'm listening."

"I promise you. I promise that we'll do this right proper as soon as. . ."

"With dates and everything?"

"Dates and everything. I was an English gentleman, after all. Think I could handle a courtship."

"A courtship? Oooo. . . sounds too. . ."

"Boring? Stuffy?"

"Normal." She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sure we'll find a way to make it," he paused to nuzzle her neck and hear her soft groan, "exciting."

"You better." She twisted out of his arms and picked up the backpack. "We should get going."

Spike cocked his head and set his jaw. "Right."

xxxxx

With each syllable that Spike read off the wrinkled bit of paper that he stretched taut against his palms, the wind swirled faster and multi-colored lights flashed and sparked around them. Her eyes squinting in the swirling dust, Buffy knelt beside the shaking device, holding the metal legs firm against the grass-covered ground.

"Hurry, Spike!" she shouted against the shrieking air stream. "I can't hold this much longer!"

Legs spread wide, Spike complied by reading the chant-like spell faster, his voice rising above the din. Willow's name flew off his lips to end the spell, and suddenly, everything went as quiet and still as the eye of a hurricane.

The hair that had escaped from her ponytail settling around her face, Buffy's eyes scanned around the small courtyard that was shrouded with shadows from the clusters of trees and bushes.

Nothing was different.

Spike frowned. "Well, that was a big disappoi. . ."

A high-pitched squeal resounded followed by a tiny pop as if the air pressure changed.

"Willow!" Buffy cried, scrambling to her feet.

Eyes closed, the redhead stood with her back to her friend. Her forehead wrinkled as she opened her eyes. "Buffy?"

"Will!" Buffy rushed to hug her friend. "You don't know how glad. . ."

And she went right through her friend's body.

Spike caught her in his arms, and she immediately twisted around to catch the horrified expression on Willow's face.

"Oh my god, did I hurt you?" Buffy asked, reaching a helpless hand out to her friend.

Spike let his hand linger on Buffy's bicep. "I don't think Red's hurting, pet."

"Oh." Buffy studied Willow's disconcerted expression. "What's wrong?"

Willow grasped the hem of her shirt. "You called my astral body across

dimensions so that I could help you guys, right?"

"Yeah." Buffy couldn't help the worry that crept into her voice.

The redhead gave them a frustrated look. "And you had to do it when I was wearing my pj's?"

"Sorry, Will, but we didn't have time to worry about what you might be doing over there." Buffy took a step back into Spike's body; for a moment, she almost couldn't believe what had occurred between them not an hour ago. She wondered briefly if Willow would notice anything different.

She shrugged. "S'okay. Just next time, be careful! I could have been doing goddess knows what!"

"Consider us properly chastised."

Willow grinned at her friends. "Good. Now what do you need?"

"Restoration of Angel's soul," Spike interjected.

"Again?" Willow shook her head and clucked her tongue. "He's always losing his soul and needing me to put it back in him. You'd think that he'd have learned his lesson by now." She gave Buffy a pointed glance.

"What? Don't look at me! I didn't do it to him. . ." Buffy felt Spike almost imperceptibly stiffen behind her. "Not in like the last two or three times!"

Willow lifted an eyebrow at Buffy and Spike's body language. "Kinda figured." She fixed her eyes on Buffy's. "Details after we finish this?"

Buffy grinned, feeling nostalgic for high school when she and Willow had gossiped about boys at the Bronze. "Of course."

"Good." The witch began to pace back and forth. "Now I'm not sure if I can do magics here." For the first time, she noticed her surroundings. "Wherever here is. And I'll need some ingredients and. . . where can I find an orb of Thessulah?"

Viewing the oddly lit, paradoxically brilliant green garden with new eyes, Buffy responded to the one thing she knew, "We're in one of Stephanie's courtyards in Vampire Villa. . . apparently, it's one of the clearest places to conduct cross-dimensional magic."

"Who's Stephanie?"

"The vampire responsible for restoring me to my proper, well. . . me." The familiar voice sent icy shivers shooting up Buffy's spine.

His voice dark and low, Spike identified the obvious, "Angelus."

Angelus ambled slowly forth from the shadows, a confident smirk on his face, his fingers steepled together. "You got it."

Willow threw out a few mumbled words and flung out her arm. An almost imperceptible force ripped through the air, slamming into Angelus's body and sending him crashing against the stone wall of Stephanie's fortress. He hit the stone without a sound, and his body slid to the ground.

"Magic. Check." She crossed her arms, satisfied with her work. "And pretty much in line with my real self."

Buffy carefully stepped around her friend to examine Angelus's prone form; she hadn't liked going through Willow. It was too disconcerting. "Is he out?"

"Buffy." Spike's voice carried a warning as she nudged the unmoving vampire with the toe of her boot.

The warning came too late, though, as strong fingers circled her ankle and tugged hard. Angelus pulled Buffy down, using her motion to pull himself to his feet. He dragged her back up before she had a chance to lash out and pressed his fingers into her throat, cutting off her oxygen. Fear flooding her chest and her heart pounding against her ribs, Buffy moaned and clawed at his hand, but his fingers were a vice grip.

Angelus nipped her neck with one tooth and licked upward, his face a mask of pleasure at the taste of a Slayer's blood filling his mouth.

"One word. One move. And she's dead."

TBC. . .


End file.
